


Between The Shadow And The Soul

by vawashere



Series: HP: The Rare Pair Series [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Accurate Hufflepuff Representation, Because There Aren't Nearly Enough Hufflepuffs In Canon, Celine Is An Art Teacher, Celine Loves Her Job, Celine is a Sweetheart, Draco needs a friend, Eventually a happy ending, F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, MC is a Hufflepuff, Magic Art Though Obviously, Minor Age Gap, Minor Slowburn, Non-Canon Relationship, OC as a main character, OKAY ENOUGH TAGS, Oh and Drarry is Kind of One-Sided, Severus Snape Angst, Snape Needs Love, THERE IS ART CLASS IN THIS AU, You'll Still Be Seeing The Original Folks Though, because I'm impatient
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:54:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22610596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vawashere/pseuds/vawashere
Summary: A brooding Potions Master.A blithe and lively Visual Arts Professor.A mischievous Golden Trio, some Sneaky Slytherins, and a whole world of Trouble.What could go wrong?Or, alternatively - Severus Snape finds himself entangled in the wild sort of adventure he didn't know he needed.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy & Original Female Character(s), Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Severus Snape/Celine Florena Grey, Severus Snape/Original Female Character(s), Sirius Black & Remus Lupin
Series: HP: The Rare Pair Series [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1686199
Comments: 11
Kudos: 45





	1. Prologue - 1971

PROLOGUE

_“I don’t love you as if you were a rose of salt, topaz,_  
_or arrow of carnations that propagate fire:_  
_I love you as one loves certain obscure things,_  
_secretly, between the shadow and the soul.”_

-  
1 SEPTEMBER 1971

Severus did not want to be here.

The platform 9 ¾ was loud, crowded, bright and bustling - everything the boy hated, all in one place. A babbling mother herded her children past him, nearly knocking him over in her haste. Scowling, Severus clutched his trunk a little closer to his person.

His heart fluttered anxiously in his chest. As eager as he was to be starting a new chapter of his life, Severus felt unbearably overwhelmed. How was he to proceed without his frail mother’s guidance? He had no friends, no prior experience - and if there was one thing Severus hated the most, it was walking into something blind.

The Hogwarts Express released a shrill whistle as it pulled up to the platform, steam hissing from the brakes. The noise and intensity reached a crescendo around him as parents frantically waved their children off with tearful goodbyes, handkerchiefs pressed to their faces. Severus grimaced at the sight and sighed silently. Tugging his belongings along with him, he sullenly boarded the train.

The train was as garishly bright on the inside as it was on the outside, much to his chagrin. Bright light filtered in through the large windows, casting a warm glow on the plush velvet seats. The corridor was long and cramped, its carpeted floors muting his footfalls and the light scraping of his trunk against the ground. 

Severus made haste towards an empty compartment once he saw more children filtering in, not wanting to be caught in the current. He slid the door shut behind him in a hurry, and sighed again. That was all he seemed to be doing today.

Once he’d calmed enough, Severus made quick work of setting down his things and taking a seat. Reaching into the folds of his cloak, he pulled out a book. ‘Elide Ember’s Anthology of Enchanting Tales’, it was called. Normally this would be a far cry from his usual taste in reading (he preferred textbooks to fairy tales, thank you very much) but this book was special. His mother had gifted it to him the night before his departure, a twinkle in her normally solemn blue eyes.

“I took this book with me on my first journey to Hogwarts,” she had whispered, gently pressing it to his chest. “It had been a dear friend to me then. Now it can be one to you.”

The cover crackled with age as he pulled it open. His slim hand traced over the message that was neatly written on the cover page.

_To my Dearest Prince -_  
_You will be the greatest wizard Hogwarts has ever seen._  
_Travel safely, my love, and remember;_  
_Perseverance is the key to any locked door._  
_\- Mother_

Filled with renewed determination, Severus held the book close to his heart and turned his gaze towards the window as the train began to pull away from the platform with one last shrill whistle.

He would excel in his studies and graduate from Hogwarts with flying colours as a fully-fledged wizard. As soon as he gained his Master's status in potion-making, he would rescue his mother from the dismal hellhole he was raised in and would provide her with enough comfort to live out the rest of her days, away from hardships and her husband.

Yes. Severus no longer felt that he was going in blind now. He had a goal now, and nothing could stop him from reaching it.

Nothing.


	2. In Which Celine Grey Begins Her Journey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Celine nervously prepares for her first year as Hogwarts' Visual Arts Professor.  
> She encounters someone peculiar on the way.

PRESENT DAY - 30 AUGUST 1991

Celine Florena Grey usually liked to consider herself as a sensible, responsible witch. You know, the one who would make sure all of the washing was done on Sunday, and that there were no missing foods in the pantry, and would also remember not to leave her windows open at night in fear of a rather rambunctious family of Nifflers breaking in and attempting to steal her silverware (which of course, has never happened).

So yes, Celine usually did all of those things, and was usually a sensible and responsible witch - which is why she would really like to know why none of those sensibilities have seemed to carry over to today.

“OOH, I absolutely CANNOT be late!” The woman wailed, tearing around her flat in a maddened frenzy. She quite looked the part this fine morning - her blonde hair was in wild disarray, there was a smear of what could be jam on her left cheek, she was missing one of her stockings and just where was her blasted wand?!

“Pippy!” She practically whimpered. With a crack, her resident House Elf appeared, practically trembling with her need to please.

“Yes, Miss Grey! Pippy is here to help, she is!” Babbled the Elf.

“Pippy, have you seen my wand? And my trunk? And my-” just then noticing how cold one of her feet was, she glanced down, “-right stocking? Oh blast, I’m going to be late aren’t I?!”

Pippy released an anxious squeak at the sight of her Mistress so wound up. “Don’t fret Miss Grey, Pippy will search!” She disappeared and reappeared a moment later with the stocking and wand in hand, wide-eyed. “Miss Grey’s trunk is in the entryway!”

“I could kiss you Pippy, but I really do not want you to combust,” Celine sighed in relief, gladly accepting the offered items. She quickly replaced her missing stocking, and, using her wand, cast a quick cleaning charm to rid herself of her messy appearance (something that irked her to no end).

Now dressed immaculately in soft grey robes, her face fresh and her hair twisted into a simple chignon at the base of her neck, Celine was ready to go. She crouched down and pressed a kiss to Pippy’s forehead, much to the Elf’s surprise.

“Keep an eye on the flat for me, won’t you love?” Celine smiled over the frantic squeaking. “I’ll be back to visit when the Hols arrive.” Pippy squealed, overwhelmed, babbled her thanks and disappeared with a crack. Celine was once again on her own.

Inhaling shakily, Celine closed her eyes. This was a new year, full of new opportunities. She would be the first Professor ever to teach Visual Arts at Hogwarts (no pressure), and this was her first year officially teaching. She found herself recalling her mentor’s last words to her.

_“Oh, but what if I do poorly?” Celine fretted, pacing the length of the spacious office she was in. “I just know I’ll forget all you have taught me- what if I forget to prepare the lesson plans, and school begins and I have nothing?!”_

_Ms. Rain laughed, raising a hand to cease her rambling. Twinkling blue eyes peered into hers reassuringly. “Child, you really must calm down. You will do magnificently,” she soothed, rising from her seat behind the large desk that contained many years worth of nicks and stains. Coming around the side, she placed a plump hand on Celine’s upper arm._

_“Can you remember the first thing I taught you when I brought you under my wing so long ago?”_

_“‘Remain sound of mind and sound of heart, and all will work in your favour,’” Celine recited automatically, her voice softening. “Oh, but Ms. Raine, however will I get to your level? I can barely remember to put on my stockings in the morning sometimes, let alone teach a school!”_

_“Focus not on how you compare to others, but how you can improve yourself, Celine.” Ms. Raine told her, with all of the wisdom and grace of an eighty-year-old witch. “There will always be those who are better than you, and always those who are worst. In order to succeed, you must ignore these facts of life and just focus on your own improvement.”_

_“I understand, Ms. Raine,” Celine responded. She felt much calmer. “I will do my best.”_

_Ms. Raine smiled and patted her arm lovingly, taking a step back. “Oh, and Celine- call me Amethyst.”_

Celine exhaled and opened her eyes with a smile. “‘Remain sound of mind and sound of heart, and all will work in your favour.’” She repeated to herself. Then with a swish of her wand, she Accio’ed her trunk and disapparated with a crack.

Celine Apparated in front of Hogwarts with a sickening bout of vertigo, making her stumble slightly. She groaned under her breath. Celine was definitely not a fan of Apparation, it always left her feeling queasy and disoriented. It was a miracle she managed to pass her examination at all.

Brushing off her robes with a huff, she peered up at the gates with a gleeful smile. Oh, how wonderful it felt to be back here! As she entered the grounds and began the trek to the castle, she fondly recalled memories of her school years.

She had begun attending Hogwarts near the end of the First War. She remembered how her parents had fretted about sending her away to school while the Dark Lord was out and about wreaking havoc upon the Wizarding World. Eventually, they conceded and Celine was attending as a first-year Hufflepuff. Over the years she had made many good memories with her few friends, but one particular memory stuck with her always.

_Black hair fluttering in the wind… cold, dark eyes… a look of resentment fading into astonishment…_

_“You’re not alone…”_

Celine couldn’t remember who the person was, or why she said what she did - all she could cling onto was the peace the memory brought to her, the moment of utter tranquility it had been. When she was sad, she’d recall the memory and it would make her smile. Celine had given up on trying to recover the full memory. The little piece she had was enough to keep her happy.

“Ms. Grey?”

Celine started, barely repressing a yelp of surprise. She raised her face towards the gates, where a tall, elegantly boned older woman stood with a bemused expression. The woman inclined her head once she noticed she had Celine’s attention. “Welcome to Hogwarts, Ms. Grey. I am Minerva McGonagall, the Deputy Headmistress.”

“Yes- I- I’m terribly sorry, it’s a pleasure to meet you! I- that is to say- meet you again… ah... ” Celine stumbled over her words, flushing in embarrassment. What a wonderful first impression she was making. “Please, call me Celine.”

The Deputy Headmistress raised a brow in response. Those close to her would mark that as a sign of amusement. “And you may call me Minerva. We are to be colleagues, after all.” The older woman gestured behind herself towards the open gates. “Shall we?”

Celine followed after her obediently, her belongings floating close behind. She felt rather foolish and young compared to this poised creature of elegance, but she made no exterior show of it. She could only hope that she wouldn’t embarrass herself in front of the woman further.

“I remember you,” Minerva spoke suddenly, startling her. Get a grip, Celine! “You made quite an impression in your school days if I recall correctly. Pomona would constantly gush over your artworks.”

Celine smiled shyly, averting her gaze. “Professor Sprout really was my biggest supporter back then. I didn’t think you would remember me though, Professor!”

“Minerva, dear,” the older woman corrected. Celine murmured the name under her breath in apology. “I remember all of my students, memorable or not. You were a diligent student, very hardworking. I’m sure that attitude will be passed on to your teaching career.”

Celine couldn’t help but blush, feeling childishly pleased that she was remembered by someone. She had lost touch with most of her school friends soon after graduation and hadn’t expected to connect with that chapter of her life ever again. For a long time, Hogwarts remained as nothing but a warm memory. Being on campus, seeing her old professors again… it was all so surreal.

The two women maintained a stream of light chatter as they walked down the path to the school, getting better acquainted with one another. Celine was relieved she at least had one person she could ally herself with now. Making friends was no simple feat.

“I will guide you to your chambers so you can get settled in. You can acquaint yourself with the rest of the staff at dinner tonight in the Great Hall. I will send an owl later tonight with the address of your classroom. Of course, feel free to request any items you are missing for your curriculum.”

“Thank you,” Celine breathed, beginning to feel slightly overwhelmed again.

Minerva gave her a small smile, taking pity on her. “You will do wonderfully Celine. I know your job this year is no easy one, being the youngest of the staff as well as the first to teach this new course, but you have proven your capabilities in the past. I have no doubt you will be able to again.”

“Oh, Prof- Minerva!” Celine gasped, waving her off with a wide smile. “You shouldn’t flatter me so much, my ego is practically bursting!”

Minerva chuckled lightly in response.

They arrived at the castle, and Minerva quickly guided her towards her chambers, located near the Hufflepuff dormitories (much to Celine’s delight). Her main bedchamber was connected to a sitting room and a small office. Celine found comfort in the familiarity of warm yellow hues and rounded doors, as well as the faint scent of spices that lingered in the air due to the proximity of the kitchens nearby. Minerva left her to her own devices, and Celine wasted no time making her new chambers feel more like home. Popping open her trunk, the first thing to exit were her precious plants. She enlarged them and placed them around her chambers, immediately giving them an effect reminiscent of a greenhouse. Next was her precious easel and art supplies, which she finally decided to set in her office. Finally, Celine enlarged her rather alarmingly large collection of pillows and scattered them across her bed. (So what if she liked to be comfortable?)

Celine took a step back with a satisfied sigh, blowing a loose strand of hair out of her eyes. She was finally finished. Now, all that was left to do was freshen up before dinner, which would be starting in- she cast a minor wandless Tempus charm- ten minutes?! 

“Helga’s Hearth!” She squealed in fright, jumping into action. Where was her blasted wand?! After a wasted two minutes searching, Celine finally found it hidden behind one of her plants (she didn’t bother questioning how it got there). Barely suppressing a wail of frustration, she rushed to clean herself with quick charms (for the second time that day) and skidded to a stop in front of a mirror hanging on the wall. Her blonde hair was in a neat chignon again, her cheeks slightly flushed from exertion, and wide grey-blue eyes stared back at her.

“No time for vanity!” She scolded her reflection and hurried from the room.

Celine could feel nerves fluttering in her stomach as she rushed down the halls. _Would she make a good impression? Would she embarrass herself again? Would the other professors like her? Would-_

Celine’s panicked thoughts were abruptly cut off as she crashed into something firm. Stumbling back with a startled gasp, she clutched at her nose in pain. “Blasted walls! Why does this always happen to me?!” She whimpered.

“The last time I checked, human beings weren’t considered ‘walls’. Are you hard of sight as well as sensibility?” A cold and distinctively masculine voice drawled.

Celine’s eyes flew open. She raised her head to stare at the newcomer. He sported a rather impressive scowl that kind of made her want to squeak and disappear from sight. Somehow, she resisted. With a subtle gulp, she tried to find her voice.

“I’m so sorry- I did not see you, this is all my fault-” she babbled. When the man continued to stare at her with thinly veiled disgust, Celine realized she was still clutching her nose. She dropped her hands immediately.

“I don’t have time for this,” he muttered and brushed past her without further acknowledgment. Celine tensed as he passed, her face flaming red with humiliation. _Merlin, could her day get any worse?_

Apparently, it could, because Celine realized she had to walk in the same direction.

Glumly, Celine turned on her heel and followed after the brooding man at a much slower pace, not wanting to accidentally step on his billowing robes or something (knowing her, it was possible). It took two minutes of silent walking before he acknowledged her presence again.

“Just why are you following me?” He snarled, glaring over his shoulder at her. Celine faltered slightly but made no other indication of her intimidation.

“The Great Hall is in this direction,” she responded sheepishly. “That’s where I’m… going…”

After a calculating stare, the man turned forward again and fell silent. He seemed to have no argument for that.

Celine suppressed a sigh. This was not going well. If there was anything she hated more than Apparition and spiders, it was making enemies. If only she wasn’t a ditzy clutz sometimes. Belatedly, she realized that she had arrived at the Great Hall and that the scowling man was entering alongside her. _Oh no, was he a member of staff?_

Her worst fears were confirmed when he took his seat at the High Table, his scowl deepening when he noticed she was still there. Celine averted her eyes to the rest of the seated staff.

“Celine Grey, is that you?” Professor Sprout practically squealed, getting to her feet. A smile automatically bloomed on Celine’s face, and she walked over to greet the woman. She was surprised when she was suddenly wrapped in a tight hug, but was quick to reciprocate it.

“Goodness child, look how you’ve grown!” Sprout beamed like a proud grandmother, pulling away to look her over appraisingly. “You’ve become a beautiful young woman.”

Celine blushed under the flattery, smiling widely. “You haven’t aged a bit since I last saw you, Professor.”

The woman giggled, waving off the compliment. “None of this Professor nonsense, you may refer to me as Pomona - we are colleagues after all!” She said, much like Minerva. “Come, have a seat, let’s introduce you to the rest of the staff, hm?”

Smiling politely, Celine made herself acquainted (technically, re-acquainted) with her new colleagues, happy to see familiar faces. Shaking hands with the twinkly-eyed Headmaster Dumbledore, her inquisitive gaze turned to the last person remaining, who had remained sullenly quiet throughout the whole thing.

“Come now Severus, don’t be glum!” Chuckled the Headmaster, undeterred by the man’s foul mood. “This is a time for celebration and amity. Won’t you greet your new colleague?”  
“Oh, it’s quite alright, we’ve already met,” Celine protested feebly, not wanting to bother the scowling man any further. She nearly jerked in surprise when the man’s dark eyes slid over to her, freezing in place.

“Severus Snape. Head of Slytherin, Potions Master.” He introduced himself curtly and turned his attention to Dumbledore. “May we finally eat? I don’t have time to fraternize, I have work that needs to be done.”

“Yes, yes,” Dumbledore waved him off jovially. Meanwhile, Celine was internally gaping at how casually disrespectful Snape could be towards the Headmaster but wisely remained silent on the matter. She hardly knew the contents of their relationship after all.

The rest of the dinner passed as a jovial blur as she was swept up in conversation and delicious foods. Celine made a note to visit the kitchens and pay her compliments to the House Elves later on. She was in the middle of an interesting debate on Wizarding history with Professor Flitwick when Snape abruptly stood and stormed from the room. She stared after him worriedly.

“I hope I haven’t done anything to anger him,” she expressed fretfully. “I couldn’t bear being the reason for his foul mood.”

Minerva laughed, surprising Celine. “Oh, don’t be bothered by him. Everything angers him. That man has made it his mandate to make everyone his enemy.”

“He has his reasons, Minerva,” the Headmaster responded quietly, swirling the contents of his goblet.

“That doesn’t excuse the fact that he is downright sour, and unreasonably so.” Minerva sniffed.

Celine sensed that this was no new topic of debate. Feeling rather awkward, she feigned exhaustion and excused herself for the night. She sighed softly as the doors of the Great Hall shut behind her. Now that she was alone in the dimness of the hall, she allowed her shoulders to slump and her bone-deep exhaustion to show. At least her excuse had ended up being truthful.

As she slowly meandered back to her chambers, Celine found her thoughts drifting to Snape and the conversation at dinner. What had the Headmaster meant by ‘reasons’? What reasons could a man have to make him so… hateful? Celine did not resent Snape for his hostility, rather she kind of pitied him. He did not seem to really have allies at the tablet tonight, and the only times he would speak were when he was forced to. Even then, his responses were curt and shallow.

_What was such an angry man doing working at a school like this?_

Celine shook her head. This really was none of her business, and she had enough to worry about that didn’t involve brooding Potions Masters and mysterious conversations. Right now, all Celine wanted was to sleep her worries away.

And once she arrived at her chambers, that was exactly what she did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we meet our resident heroine, Celine! Yay! I hope you enjoy her character as much as I do.
> 
> Celine meets Snape! Yay!
> 
> I don't yet have an updating schedule (I absolutely abhor schedules, bleh) but I should be coming up with something soon. In the meantime, I'll be updating whenever I have a chapter available.
> 
> Much love!


	3. In Which Celine Grey Encounters Someone Strange

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last-minute preparations are made.  
> Celine clashes with Snape, encounters someone strange and has a heart-to-heart with Pomona Sprout.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE NOTE: ALL OF THE CHAPTERS POSTED ARE NOT BETA-D. PLEASE OVERLOOK ANY GRAMMATICAL ERRORS.
> 
> Also- so sorry for the delay! I was extremely busy working on my portfolio. College application season has finally come to an end. Now that the nightmare is over, I can focus on writing again! Yay!

_PRESENT DAY - 31 AUGUST 1991_

Despite having fallen asleep quite quickly, Celine could not remain in slumber for long. She was far too anxious about the upcoming school year to rest properly. A quick Tempus charm revealed that dawn was still quite a ways away. Sighing, she sat up in bed and blearily brushed her hair out of her eyes. _Oh well._ If she couldn’t sleep, she could at least be productive.

Celine was curious about her new classroom. She hadn’t had the chance to visit it yet, given how busy she was yesterday. Perhaps she would pay it a visit and begin sorting out her lesson plans.

Celine quickly dressed in modest navy blue robes and slipped out of her chambers. The halls were near-silent as she walked, making her footsteps seem impossibly loud. It was also incredibly dim. She could barely see five feet in front of her.

If she recalled correctly, Prof- Minerva said that her classroom was located on the second floor. As a former student, it wasn’t hard to deduce that it was one of the previously empty classrooms. This made it fairly easy for Celine to find her way upstairs and to its front door.

Carefully pushing open the door, a soft gasp left her lips. _“Oh!”_

The classroom was empty and a thick layer of dust coated nearly every surface, but that didn’t detract from the beauty of it. The room was circular in shape and designed as a sort of amphitheatre with low levels, ten in all, descending towards the back-centre of the room where a large mahogany desk was situated. The stone walls, lined with antiqued bronze sconces, reached up towards a large dome ceiling that would allow much light during daylight hours, but currently let soft moonlight spill onto the floor. The stained glass of the dome held tasteful depictions of Creatures roaming forests, large sprawling fields and one scene with a young flaxen-haired maiden caressing a Unicorn. Normally in Hogwarts’ classrooms, there were portraits of preceding professors hanging proudly, but because Celine was to be the first of this new course, the walls remained bare.

_Hopefully, someday my portrait will be on that wall,_ Celine thought wistfully, fully entering the room. She was enamoured by this place and was determined to make its potential shine through. Rolling up her sleeves, Celine pulled out her wand and got to work.

-

“Good morning!” Celine said cheerfully, approaching the High Table in the Great Hall. 

“Good morning, Celine.” Minerva smiled cordially at the girl. Her brows rose. “You look rather tired, did you sleep well last night?”

Celine sported a sheepish expression as she took her seat. “I’m afraid I was simply just too awake to sleep, so I decided to get an early-” _very_ early “-start to the day.” Glancing around the table, she noticed an empty seat at the far right. The sour-faced Potions Master from the night before was missing.

“How do you find your classroom to be, Celine?” Pomona piped up, smiling warmly around the rim of her goblet. “Is it satisfactory?”

Much like the older woman had predicted, Celine’s whole face lit up as she smiled. The young woman always had been easy to please. “Oh, it is so much more than satisfactory, Prof-Pomona! It’s _gorgeous!_ I spent all of this morning working on it. I do hope the children will enjoy it as much as I do.”

“With you as their teacher, I have no doubt they will,” Headmaster Dumbledore chimed in, regarding her with a thoughtful twinkle in his eye. Celine blushed accordingly and tucked herself in at the table. 

“An English breakfast, please,” she requested, and almost immediately a hearty platter of bacon, eggs, sausages and baked beans appeared in front of her, accompanied by a plate of freshly baked buttered scones and a cup of tea. Celine smiled delightedly at the sight and dug in.

“I heard we will be having quite the interesting student this year, Albus,” Filius Flitwick spoke up while she ate, raising a brow at the Headmaster, who simply smiled faintly in response. “The Boy Who Lived, isn’t it?”

“Harry Potter has finally come of age to be re-introduced to the Wizarding World,” Albus responded. His ringed fingers toyed idly with the rim of his empty teacup. “I have tried to shelter him from the overwhelming storm of the media, but I cannot do so any longer. It is time for him to start traveling on his destined path.”

Celine slowly set down her fork. “Harry Potter,” she breathed in awe. Of course, she had heard of the famous Boy-Who-Lived, who hadn’t? The boy had defeated the Dark Lord when he was simply a baby, which was no small feat. She had almost forgotten of this tiny detail in the years that news of his existence had gone suddenly quiet.

She suddenly felt quite worried. “You don’t think he’ll be struggling too much, do you, Headmaster?” She asked, too preoccupied to notice she had slipped into the old habit of referring to him by his position rather than his name. “With all of the fame and attention he is sure to receive, on top of learning how to live in the Wizarding World as well as attending Hogwarts, life for the boy will surely become taxing.”

The other professors exchanged surprised looks. They hadn’t thought of that, too distracted by the thoughts of teaching a renowned world hero. Dumbledore smiled at her warmly, raising a hand to ease her worrying.

“Mister Potter is a resilient and strong young man.” Dumbledore reasoned. “While things may certainly be… overwhelming at first, I have no doubt that he will grow accustomed to life here and he will be able to move forward.” He glanced around the table seriously. “However, he cannot do it all on his own. It is important that we all have a firm hand in guiding him on his journey, as professors and confidants should the need arise.”

Everyone nodded their assent, and with that breakfast progressed normally. When there was still no sign of Snape showing, Celine relented and asked if it was a normal occurrence for him to skip breakfast.

“Over the summer, the only meal he will attend is dinner, I’m afraid,” Pomona sniffed. “I can hardly understand it myself. I do hope that boy isn’t skipping meals, it can’t be good for his concentration in the laboratory!”

Celine didn’t know whether to be more amused by Pomona’s motherly attitude, or the fact that she had referred to the surly, intimidating Potions Master as ‘boy’.

Breakfast passed without incident and soon all of the professors were parting ways to attend to various last-minute tasks before the school year began. With her classroom already in order, Celine felt as if she could afford to take a small rest before tackling her disorganized lesson plans. Her exhaustion was beginning to catch up with her.

A peculiar murmuring noise attracted her attention on the way back to her chambers. Curiosity piqued, she couldn’t help but follow after the source. “I can’t… I can’t… I can’t…” A wrecked voice chanted, suddenly nearby. She ducked into an alcove with wide eyes and strained her ears to listen.

“ _Do not dissssobey me,_ ” another voice hissed back. It was cruel and dark and made unpleasant shivers run down Celine’s spine. “ _You will and you musssst._ ” The Lighter Voice whimpered fearfully in response before dissolving into the same broken chanting again.

Celine was terribly spooked, but her curiosity overwhelmed the urge to flee. Peeking around the corner of the alcove, she only caught a glimpse of some dark material- a turban? -before the figure disappeared from sight.

“What on earth…?” Celine muttered, squinting as she tried to make out what she had just seen.

“Do you normally make a habit of skulking around the basement’s halls like an overzealous Ravenclaw, or is this just a recent development?” A cold voice snipped from behind her.

Celine didn’t squeak. She _didn’t._ Nor did she almost tumble to the ground in her haste to whirl around and face the largely unimpressed, towering form of Severus Snape.

Celine opened her mouth to respond, or probably to release a stream of useless babbling and unwarranted apologies, but Snape cut her off. With an irritated glare, he pinched the bridge of his impressive nose. “Nevermind, I don’t wish to know.”

“I… there was a voice, I was just… I don’t usually do this, I swear-” Celine stammered when her voice finally came to her.

“I don’t wish to know,” Snape repeated firmly. Celine fell silent, a rush of hot shame rising to her cheeks. Merlin, was she doomed to always make a fool out of herself around this man?

“You weren’t at breakfast,” she found herself saying timidly. _Fool! Don’t anger him more with your attempts at small-talk!_ “Pomona is worried that you aren’t eating properly.”

Snape’s eyes flickered. “I have meals delivered to my laboratory while I am working. Her worries are misplaced.” He paused. “Is that all, or may I carry on with my day? Some of us have actual preparations to make in the face of the school year.”

Celine at least did not flinch at the disguised insult. Straightening, she brushed a calming hand over her robes and gave him a practiced smile that she usually reserved for ire-filled people. “I’m sorry you had to take time out of your day to peek into business that wasn’t your own,” she said softly, walking past him. “Good luck with your preparations, Professor Snape. I think I will indulge in a nice, long nap.”

And oh, if the look of utter disbelief on his face wasn’t the sweetest treat she could have.

-

Celine did have a nap, and she enjoyed it immensely. Now awake, fresh-faced and ready for the rest of the day, Celine made her way back upstairs to her classroom (partially because she had unfinished work to do, and partially because she just loved being there) to begin her own preparations.

“ _‘Some of us have actual preparations to make-’_ honestly! The gall of that man!” She fumed under her breath, feathers properly ruffled. Now that she had had time to reflect upon the earlier incident, she realized that Snape had been acting unnecessarily rude towards her. Perhaps this was some sort of initiation ritual? That, or he was just an unpleasant human being. Currently, she was leaning more towards the latter.

Celine huffed, straightening her posture. She would show him that the Visual Arts were a skill not to be disregarded. Celine also knew she had to learn not to let Snape get under her skin so easily if she wanted to get through the school year.

Entering her classroom, Celine was delighted to see bright sunlight pouring in through the dome ceiling, bathing the large room in an ethereal rainbow glow. It gave the room an entrancing, cozy atmosphere. “The students will love this!” She beamed.

Earlier that day, Celine had customized the room to her liking. Persian rugs were tastefully placed over the drab stone floors in the centre of the ampitheatre, brightening the room with their rich colours and patterns. She had Transfigured string into ivy to curl along the walls and bronze sconces. All in all, her classroom was a wonderfully enchanting place and she would be darned if Snape sneered at her work.

With great reluctance, Celine took a seat behind her desk and began reviewing her lesson plans for the year. Imbuing magic into art was no easy feat, but she had faith in her future students’ capabilities. Her goal with this class was to teach them to find beauty in the simplest of things, and to create beauty themselves. 

Visual Arts would only be mandatory for first and second years. Afterward, it could be chosen as an extra class. Celine hoped her class would leave enough of a mark to attract the older students as well, the more the merrier of course.

As she worked, her quill maintaining a rhythmic scritch-scritch on parchment, Celine found herself reminiscing on how this all came to be in the first place.

_MS. AMETHYST RAIN’S MANOR - 3 JULY 1991_

_Ms. Rain and Celine stared, gobsmacked, as a brightly-robed old wizard emerged from the Floo. Celine nearly dropped the teapot she was holding._

_Straightening, Dumbledore gave them a crinkly-eyed smile. “Good day, ladies. Apologies for the impromptu visit, I was hoping we could have a small chat.” Raising his arm, he pulled a small glass bowl of candies from his sleeve. “Lemon drops, anyone?”_

_It took all of three seconds for Ms. Rain to return to her senses. Fussing over her lack of hostessing, she bustled him to a seat (the most comfortable arm-chair in the Sitting Room), offering him tea and biscuits and ‘Oh, was he cold? She could stoke up the fire!’_

_“A spot of tea would be marvelous, thank you Amethyst,” Dumbledore responded in kind, smoothing his robes as he sat. He smiled at Celine, who was still frozen in the same spot. “Ah, there’s the famed Celine Grey I’ve come to hear so much about.”_

_Celine blinked, lowering her gaze demurely as she reached over to pour him a cup of tea. “I am hardly famed sir, you flatter me. It’s nice to see you again.” It was still so strangely surreal to have her former Headmaster sitting in her mentor’s home, but Celine had enough experience with strange occurrences to know it was best not to question them._

_“The Daily Prophet would argue otherwise,” and there was that crinkly-eyed smile again. “While a part of it, this is not why I’ve come to speak with you both today.” He gestured to the empty seats across from him, as if he were the host and they were his gracious guests. “Please, have a seat. I do feel rather strange being the only one sitting.”_

_Ms. Rain and Celine complied, exchanging equally bemused looks. Ms. Rain spoke up first. “Albus, as wonderfully surprised as we are to have your company, I must ask… why are you here?”_

_“I’ve come with a rather interesting proposition for your apprentice, Amethyst.” Dumbledore smiled, reaching for his teacup. He took a sip, sighing indulgently, before continuing. “You see, the Ministry and I have come to the conclusion that it would be beneficial to introduce the arts- visual arts specifically -to the Hogwarts’ curriculum.”_

_Ms. Rain’s eyes were incredibly wide. Both women tried to digest his words. “You mean-” she stuttered, “There are going to be Arts’ classes at Hogwarts?”_

_“Exactly so, yes.” Dumbledore sipped at his tea, blissfully ignorant of the shock he had caused._

_“Pardon my ignorance, Headmaster,” Celine piped in faintly, “But… what does this have to do with me, exactly?”_

_“Ah.” He set down his cup again. “I’m glad you asked, Miss Grey. Considering the incredible storm you’ve stirred in the Wizarding World over your most recent collection of beautiful artworks, I couldn’t help but notice your aptitude for the subject.”_

_“She’s just very nearly finished her apprenticeship. Celine will be receiving her honours at the beginning of August,” Ms. Rain said proudly, smiling over at her student._

_“As befitting for a wonderful student,” Dumbledore praised, and his eyes twinkled as he leaned forward in his seat. “Which is why I’ve come to make you an offer.”_

_“Headmaster, I… I don’t understand…” Celine stuttered, feeling light-headed._

_“Come now, Celine, call me Albus.” He smiled. “We are bound to be colleagues, after all. Tell me- how would you feel about becoming Hogwarts’ first-ever Visual Arts Professor?”_

_PRESENT DAY - 31 AUGUST 1991_

Celine smiled fondly at the memory, and how absolutely elated her normally composed mentor had been. Ms. Rain had insisted on throwing a party for her that night, ignoring Celine’s feeble protests. It had been the best night of Celine’s life.

Setting down her quill, Celine stretched with a satisfied sigh. Finally, all her work was done. Now all that was left to do was wait for the students to arrive tomorrow. A knock at her classroom door attracted her attention. “Come in!” She called gently, getting to her feet.

The smiling face of Pomona Sprout appeared in the doorway. Her former Head of House entered the room, appraising her surroundings. “Very nicely done, Celine. I have no doubt your students will love your class,” she praised, waddling towards her.

Celine smiled bashfully. “I’m glad you think so, Pomona, thank you.” Noticing the dirt smudges on the older woman, she asked, “Have you been out in the greenhouses?”

Pomona nodded, pulling out her wand to quickly spell the mess away. “I was just tending to the plants, making sure they are all ready for the school year. The new batch of baby Mandrakes were downright sour today, I must say.”

Celine made a noise of sympathy. Rebellious magical plants couldn’t be easy to handle. “Can I get you anything, Pomona? Tea, perhaps?”

“Oh I’m quite alright dear, I just came to check up on you.” The round woman peered up at her insightfully. “How are you feeling, dear?”

“Pardon?” Celine blinked.

“Are you nervous at all for tomorrow? Stressed? Is there anything bothering you that you wish to confide about?” The older woman prompted, tucking her wand away.

“Oh.” Celine smoothed her neat blonde hair back self-consciously. “Well, I am quite nervous, but I’ve been occupying myself so I think I’ll be alright.” She hesitated. “I just hope I’m going to do a good job.”

“Oh dear Celine, you have nothing to worry about!” Pomona tutted. “You are a brilliant young witch, quite talented in your craft if I do say so myself. Everyone has the utmost faith in your capabilities.”

“Professor Snape doesn’t.” The words slipped out without thinking, making Celine blush uncomfortably. “I- I mean-”

Pomona chuckled heartily, ringlets of flyaway grey hair bouncing as she shook her head. “Celine dear, you’d have more of a chance flying into the sun with wax wings* than gaining a compliment from Severus Snape. The man is the veritable Ice King of Hogwarts.” She paused in her mirth, peering at Celine worriedly. “Oh, you aren’t actually concerned over him are you?”

“I’m… unused to someone disliking me so suddenly,” Celine admitted, taking a seat on one of the amphitheatre steps. Pomona Transfigured a cushion into an ottoman and did the same. “I don’t really know how to act around him.”

“It can be startling,” Pomona agreed. “Soft-hearted people like us aren’t very well-equipped to deal with hard bastards, aren’t we?” Celine choked at her language, making the woman laugh. “All we can do is politely ignore their attitude and move on, I’m afraid. A hard fact of life is that not everyone will like you. It’s best to pay little attention to those who don’t, lest you want their harsh words to fester and eat you up inside.”

“You’re right,” Celine agreed, because she was - but the younger woman was puzzled by how much Snape’s cold demeanor bothered her. She didn’t feel it right to bring it up to Pomona, though. “Thank you Pomona, I’ve almost forgotten how good your advice is.”

Pomona gave her a cheeky little smile, getting to her feet again. She reversed the Transfiguration on her seat, returning it to a simple cushion. “If you ever need more of my good advice, feel free to pay me a visit in the greenhouses, hm?”

“Of course!” Celine walked Pomona to the door. Bidding her goodbye, she shut the door and turned back to her classroom with a sigh. Judging by the shift in light, it was almost time for lunch. 

A tingling sensation in her chest, achingly familiar, attracted Celine’s attention. She smiled. It would look like she’d be ordering lunch today… her magic was Calling. It had been a while since the last time.

Smiling to herself, Celine Accio’ed all of the items she needed and set up her materials. Rolling up her sleeves and pulling out a brush, Celine began to paint.

-

Sooner than she would have liked, her wand quivered with an alarm set for dinner time. Celine set down her brush and sighed tiredly, stretching her sore muscles. She had been at it for a while now. Staring critically at the canvas in front of her, Celine shook her head. Something was missing from the piece. She would have to resolve that after her meal.

As she cleaned herself up with a few charms, Celine noted with no small pang of worry that she would be seeing the Potions Master again tonight. She was beginning to regret her cheeky comment from earlier today. Would he be sourer than ever? Would he hold it against her? Celine hoped not - there was nothing she hated more than making enemies.

The walk to the Great Hall was swift, and soon she was pushing open the heavy double doors. Warm light and the smell of good food greeted her. Smiling, she made her way to the Head Table. Surprisingly, very few Professors were present tonight. She could only see Filius Flitwick, Pomona Sprout and Severus Snape seated at the table. Even Professor Trelawney was missing.

“Hello, Celine. Good to see you’re looking better,” Filius said kindly, waving his wand to pull out her chair for her. She smiled gratefully. “Did you have a nice nap?” She could hear Snape grumble to himself from his sullen corner of the table, making her smile widen exponentially.

“I did indeed, thank you, Filius,” she responded blithely, taking her seat. “I feel very well-rested. I even managed to get some work done.”

“I cannot imagine what work involves _colours_ and a _paintbrush._ ” Snape snipped from his seat, swirling the contents of his goblet with a faintly annoyed sneer.

“It certainly beats skulking around the dungeons like an overgrown bat, don’t you think?” Celine responded. Filius choked on the contents of his goblet. Pomona barked out a laugh of surprise.

“Celine, dear, I didn’t know you had it in you!” She praised, still giggling as she brought her goblet to her lips. “Severus, you must admit that was a good one.”

“A child’s retort will warrant no praise from me,” he growled, abruptly rising from his seat. “Good night.” With that, he stalked away from the Head Table, robes billowing out in his wake. Celine watched him leave with a sinking heart and crestfallen expression. She winced as the doors slammed behind him.

“Oh, was I too mean? I didn’t want to insult him,” the poor girl practically whimpered, staring down at her plate forlornly. “Now I fear I’ve ruined any chance at salvaging our acquaintanceship.”

“You’ve done absolutely nothing wrong.” Pomona huffed, crossing her arms over her bosom. “His pride is only wounded, that’s all. Severus has always been a sourpuss, especially near the beginning of the school year. He’ll get over it.”

Celine was evidently not reassured. Pomona sighed fondly, leaning over her seat to whisper in her ear. “He likes Treacle Tarts.” She then leaned away and resumed eating like nothing happened.

Celine flushed. If she was to gain the Professor’s approval in time for the new year, she supposed fetching him a Treacle Tart from the kitchens was a small price to pay. As she ate, Celine noted belatedly that she never would have assumed the glowering Potions Master would be the type to enjoy so sweet of a treat.

-

Ten minutes had passed and Celine was still awkwardly hovering in front of the door leading to the Potions Laboratory, a plate of Treacle Tart in hand. She felt quite foolish, really. Although Celine felt a strong urge to turn tail and run for the hills, she knew she was past the point of turning back. She had made her decision, and now she must commit.

“What am I even apologizing for?” She muttered crossly and knocked sharply on the door.

No response.

Celine frowned and knocked again. Still no response. Growing rather frustrated, she drew up what little Gryffindor courage she had and moved to open the door herself. She wasn’t expecting it to swing open on its own however and was left standing and blinking down at her hand in an idiotic fashion.

Of _course,_ Snape had to antagonize her, even in magical form. It was rather impressive to see what lengths he would go to to do it, honestly.

Though the door to the laboratory had opened, Celine could see no one there. She called out a fruitless ‘hello’, not expecting a response. Celine sighed and stepped into the room, immediately overwhelmed with the sense that she was intruding, even if the magical door had invited her in.

Celine gently set down the Treacle Tart on the nearest flat surface, which was a daunting stack of well-worn textbooks, and cast a warming charm to keep the treat fresh should the Potions Master return from wherever he was hiding. Celine had a sneaking suspicion that he hadn’t left the room at all, and was just hiding out of spite. The thought amused her - who knew a grown man could act so childishly?

“I’m sorry if I’ve offended you,” she said aloud, her soft voice permeating the quietness of the room. “I am. I don’t quite know what I’ve done to earn your spite, but I’ll fix it. I want no ill feelings between us.” After a moment, she added a quiet, “Goodnight, Professor.”

As the door shut behind her with a soft click, a dark form emerged from the shadows. Piercing black eyes stared at the door and beyond with an unreadable gleam. 

A pale hand reached for the Treacle Tart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm relieved to be writing a story with a Hufflepuff-centric MC. I've found more Hufflepuff-bashing in fanfictions than actual contributions to plots, which saddens me, so I'm here to resolve that!
> 
> I rather like writing about Pomona, I feel like she'd be such an interesting woman to meet.
> 
> I hope you liked this chapter, as well as the little Celine/Snape clash there ;) I know I did.
> 
> Much love!
> 
> *(NOTE: Pomona is referring to a story in Greek Mythology about a man named Icarus molding wings out of wax with the help of his father, and flying too close to the sun - effectively melting his wings and leading him to plummet to his death. This story is used to warn about the consequences of being excessively prideful, but that's not the context in which Pomona uses the reference. She just thinks it would be more likely for this situation to happen rather than Snape willingly paying Celine a compliment.)


	4. In Which Celine Grey Meets A Potter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first day of the new school year has officially arrived at Hogwarts’ School of Witchcraft & Wizardry.  
> Friendships are formed, alliances rejected, and enemies created.  
> Amidst it all, a bond begins to grow.

_PRESENT DAY - 1 SEPTEMBER 1991_

Celine tried very, very hard not to faint at the sight of the throngs of students pooling at the Gates. This was it. Today was the day her new career officially began - and she was terrified.

Pomona kept sending her worried looks from the corner of her eye, meaning Celine’s anxiety was physically evident. _Great._ Celine didn’t want to worry anyone, but how come no one else seemed terrified by the masses collecting in the distance?!

“Merlin, don’t forget to breathe, child,” Filius exclaimed from beside her. “They are just children, not Dementors!”

Celine uttered a muffled whimper. Pomona patted her arm sympathetically.

As Minerva McGonagall and Headmaster Dumbledore stepped forward to address the students, Celine tried to gather her wits. She was receiving more than a few curious glances from the older students, which didn’t help her nerves at all. Merlin, who decided it was a good idea for her to become a teacher?

Celine did her best to school her expression into one of calm, smoothing a hand down the front of her violet-grey robes, and met the gazes of the brave students who gawked at her. They were all the first to look away, save for a tiny wisp of a child with brilliant green eyes. Celine automatically knew who it was. She had never seen anyone with such stunning eyes.

Harry Potter.

He was almost girlishly built and very tiny, practically swimming in his unmarked first-year robes. A garish pair of round eyeglasses sat awkwardly on the bridge of his nose, slipping down the Roman slope of it. He had to push them up constantly so they wouldn’t fall off. The brave little boy gazed at Celine with an expression of something mixed with surprise and something akin to wonder. Celine was puzzled by this. Before she could smile at him, his attention was snagged by a scruffy redhead and a slim girl with bushy brown hair, effectively breaking their prolonged eye-contact.

Celine glanced down at her polished boots, feeling puzzled. Why had that moment been so intense, so significant to her? Yes, he was the famed Boy Who Lived, but there was something unusual and important about their interaction that Celine just couldn’t put her finger on. She filed that thought away for later.

Returning to the present, Celine straightened her back as Minerva began assigning groups of students to teachers to lead into the castle. All of the Slytherins, Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws, and Gryffindors who had already been sorted in previous years obediently followed their respective Heads into the building, familiar with this procedure. Pomona gave Celine one last encouraging smile before hustling her Hufflepuffs inside. 

The rest of the Professors were assigned groups of timid first years to lead into the Great Hall, where the Sorting Ceremony was to be taking place. A soft smile slipped into place once Celine was assigned to her group, and she stepped forward to greet the wide-eyed children.

“Hello everyone, my name is Professor Grey,” she greeted kindly, keeping her tone gentle and warm. “Stick together and follow me to the Great Hall, alright? I don’t want any of you to get lost on such an important day.”

Many of the students visibly relaxed once her warm voice washed over them, wearing relieved expressions. Poor dears. Filius was right - they were just children, and were probably even more nervous than she was. The thought relaxed her exponentially, leaving Celine feeling much more confident than before in her abilities. Celine caught a glimpse of Minerva’s approving smile as they entered the castle, reinforcing her good feeling.

When they passed the portraits in the entry hall, Celine felt a tug on the sleeve of her robe. She glanced down to meet the bright-eyed stare of one of the female first-years in her group.

“I’m Lavender Brown, pleased to meet you,” the girl introduced before Celine could say anything, tugging on Celine’s sleeve in an imitation of shaking hands as they walked. Celine found this charming and immediately took a liking to the girl. “I noticed that you’re new compared to the other Professors my cousin Kelly told me about… what do you teach, Professor?”

“Pleased to meet you, Lavender,” Celine smiled. “You’re right, I am new.” She raised her eyes to address her group as a whole. “The Ministry decided it was a good idea to introduce the arts to Hogwarts’ curriculum. I’m to be your Visual Arts Professor this year and the next.”

Lavender and most of the others looked intrigued by this, and began firing off all sorts of questions about the class. Celine laughed warmly and raised a calming hand, requesting for the students to speak one at a time. She noticed that there was a group of three boys that hung behind the group, each wearing expressions of annoyance mixed with boredom. Celine’s inner Hufflepuff wondered if they would be sorted into Slytherin, but Celine immediately scolded herself for making assumptions simply based on their current attitude.

Harry Potter and his two friends were snugly fit in the middle of the group, keeping mostly to themselves, though Celine could tell that the Potter boy was sneakily paying close attention to her conversation with the students. Celine was eager to learn more about the boy as the year progressed.

Celine and her group finally arrived at the Great Hall, and she instructed them to line up neatly one by one as she saw the other Professors doing. It was nearly time for the Sorting, and Celine could feel herself getting caught up in the excited atmosphere that enveloped the room.

“Alright darlings,” she called out to her group, “I’m going to take a seat at the Head Table now to watch you all be Sorted!” Celine smiled at the nervous faces that peered up at her. “I want you all to remember that no matter what House you will be sorted in, you should walk towards that table with pride. Don’t let prejudice hold you back.”

One boy at the back of the group snorted softly at her words, rolling his eyes. He was a little on the shorter side, and had the lightest hair of all the children in her group. He had been one of the annoyed-looking trio earlier. Celine met his eyes and smiled, brows raising slightly when he looked away contemptuously. Well then.

Celine waved goodbye to her group and made her way to her usual seat at the Head Table, tucking herself in. She blushed at the beaming smile that Pomona Sprout was directing her way, averting her eyes to her lap modestly.

Celine suddenly felt a searing gaze boring into her right cheek, but when she raised her head, no one was looking at her. She felt her gaze being pulled towards the far right of the table, where Severus Snape sat proudly like a king, his eyes trained on his table of Slytherins. As if sensing her eyes on him, said Professor turned his head slightly. Pitch-black eyes clashed with grey-blue ones.

Celine’s shoulders automatically tensed as she feared confrontation, but curiously, all the Potions Master did was give her a contemptuous once-over before returning his gaze to the Slytherin table with an unreadable expression. Celine faced frontward, bewildered, and barely caught the beginning of the ceremony in time.

Lavender Brown was the first of the first years to be Sorted. A Gryffindor, something Celine had expected but still brought a beaming smile to her face as she clapped alongside the sea of cheering red-marked students. 

She felt like a proud mother as one by one, the first years were Sorted into their Houses. The annoyed-looking trio from her group were each Sorted into Slytherin, as she had suspected, but she was surprised to hear that the blonde was a Malfoy. Draco Malfoy, Heir to the Malfoy line to be specific. Celine felt foolish for not recognizing that signature blonde hair and holier-than-thou attitude much earlier on.

“Potter, Harry.” Dumbledore finally announced, and a hush fell over the room.

Celine watched with bated breath as the Boy Who Lived stepped up to the podium and took a seat, trying and failing to mask the worried expression on his thin face as the Sorting Hat was placed upon his head. What could he possibly be worried about? Was it all the attention he was getting?

Instead of immediately declaring its choice, the Sorting Hat seemed almost torn. The silence gradually grew heavier the longer it took for the Hat to make its decision. Pomona and Celine exchanged a glance of wide-eyed worry. 

Just as people were beginning to stir, the Hat roared, “GRYFFINDOR!”

The Gryffindor table exploded with cheers. Some of the students half-rose to clap Harry Potter on the back, welcoming him into their family. He responded to the enthusiasm with a relieved grin that lit up his whole face, and took a seat between his two companions from earlier.

Dumbledore stepped up to the podium to begin his customary speech, welcoming all of the newcomers and old for a fresh year at Hogwarts’ School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. With a twinkle in his eye and a sweep of his arms, he said, “Let the feast… begin!”

Almost immediately, the tables were magically laden with overwhelmingly decadent platters of food, and both student body and staff tucked in eagerly.

“This is delicious!” Celine marvelled, staring down at her plate of chicken and creamy mashed potatoes with barely disguised delight. “The castle Elves really outdid themselves tonight.” After another bite, she added, “I ought to pay them a visit to thank them.”

“I’m sure they’d love that, dear,” Pomona smiled over the rim of her goblet. “Your praise will keep them bouncing off the walls for another whole week.”

“That is, if they don’t implode from over-excitement first,” Filius snorted.

“Do you recall that one Ravenclaw? Magenta Simmons, was it? She gave one of the Castle Elves a tart as a parting gift and it quite literally died from shock,” Minerva sniffed. “Poor girl was traumatized for the rest of the summer.”

Seeing the expression on Celine’s face, Pomona dissolved into giggles. She waved a plump hand dismissively. “Minerva’s only teasing, Celine darling. The Elf just fainted and scared the girl half to death. It was as right as rain after a few hours of rest.”

“A pity, that.” Snape grumbled from his seat, glowering down at his plate so fiercely Celine almost feared it would crack. “We could do with one less sugary-sweet pest popping around the halls.”

“Now Severus, you don’t mean that,” Minerva rolled her eyes.

Celine leaned forwards so she could better see the Potions Master. Gathering her courage, she said teasingly, “Why Professor, since you clearly love the Elves so much, I can send a gift on your behalf! I’m sure they’d be ecstatic to receive such praise from the Head of Slytherin himself.”

A look of horror flickered over his face. It was so comical, Celine couldn’t stop the laughter that bubbled up from her chest. Soon the rest of the surrounding staff joined in the mirth.

“Yes, yes, laugh it up, you fools,” Snape grumbled, but he didn’t seem nearly as murderous as Celine had been half-expecting. He just resembled a grumpy cat, poking at his broccoli with a scowl. “I’ll poison all of your next meals and you’ll be none the wiser.”

Of course, that set everyone off again.

-

Celine walked down the empty corridors with a small smile on her face, feeling ridiculously warm and soft inside. It had been a wonderful night – no drama, no (real) arguments of any sort. Just a feast with mirth and companionship. And Snape hadn’t even been mean to her once! Celine counted that as definite progress.

The successful feast left her feeling inspired and optimistic for the new school year. Celine had already fallen in love with her little group of first years, and couldn’t wait to teach them – yes, even heir Malfoy and his two cronies. She truly hoped she could introduce the newest generation of witches and wizards to loving the wondrous world of the arts as much as she did.

A shuffling sound down the hall drew Celine from her thoughts. She smiled politely at the skittery Professor Quirrell, inclining her head in greeting. She had never really become acquainted with the man, he was always disappearing from sight before she could get the chance. “Good evening, Professor Quirrell. Did you enjoy the feast?”

“Hm? Oh– yes, yes, it was very nice,” the man mumbled back nervously, toying with his sleeve. He wouldn’t meet her eyes. “I– er, well, that is to say, d-did you? Enjoy it?”

“I did, very much,” Celine responded gently. Quirrell reminded her of a frightened animal, so skittish and paranoid all the time, not to mention unbearably shy. “Well, I won’t hold you up. I hope you rest well, tomorrow is a busy day.”

“Y-yes. Goodnight, P-Professor Grey,” Quirrell rasped, and made a quick exit down the hall. Celine watched him leave with raised brows and an expression of faint concern. Being that anxious all the time couldn’t be healthy for the poor DADA Professor, especially considering what he would be teaching.

She shook her head and continued on to her chambers. There was no use dwelling on something she couldn’t change. Mind wandering, Celine absently wondered if it would be a good idea to review her lesson plans for a third time, her inner hardworking Hufflepuff shining through.

The woman remained blissfully unaware of the hidden pair of malicious eyes that followed her every step.

-

_PRESENT DAY – 2 SEPTEMBER 1991_

When the first group of curious Gryffindors and suspicious Slytherins entered the Magical Visual Arts classroom bright and early the next day, their professor was nowhere in sight.

The Slytherins automatically assumed she was skipping or something equally as ridiculous, solidifying their disdainful opinion of her in their minds. The Gryffindors thought nothing of it, assuming she was probably late, and quickly became distracted by the interesting decor of the vast room.

Eventually, the first years took it upon themselves to find their seats. The presence of older siblings and rumours had already made the children viciously aware of House feuds, which was why the Slytherins all sat on the left of the room, while the Gryffindors settled on the right. A gaping emptiness remained between the two Houses, made visible by the hostile exchange of glares and mutterings on both sides.

“Oh, this won’t do at all,” a dismayed voice sounded from the door of the classroom.

Simultaneously, all thirty students turned in their seats to lay eyes on the newcomer. The sweet-tempered young woman they had all noticed yesterday stood in the doorway, both hands holding pitchers full of paintbrushes. Her blonde hair had been swept from her face in a low bun, but the few strands that escaped seemed to have accidentally been coated in the same shade of blue paint that littered her apron. Her pretty face was pulled together in a light frown as she beheld the seating arrangements with evident displeasure, shaking her head.

“We’re rearranging your seats, darlings!” She announced, striding down the amphitheatre steps with purpose. “I’d like you all to pick a partner, and not just one of your friends– rather, I would like you all to pick a partner from the opposite House. No two housemates are to be together!”

The Professor paid no heed to the cacaphony of groans and protests as she set down the pitchers on her desk and brushed off her hands. One raised brow had the students rising from their seats and reluctantly complying to her wishes.

Celine eyed the sea of multicolour with a brilliant smile, folding her hands in front of her as she leaned against her desk. “Now that the seating is out of the way, let’s get to introductions, shall we?” She said. “I’ll begin. Hello darlings, my name is Celine Florena Grey, although you really should refer to me as Professor so I don’t get sacked on my first day, hm?” This drew some chuckles from the Gryffindors. “Let’s see… my favourite colour is purple– not too dark, more of a lilac to be specific– and my favourite ice cream flavour is butterscotch. Who else would like a turn?”

Slowly, one by one, the students opened up enough to introduce themselves. A few of the shyer ones simply mentioned their names, and many Slytherins divulged absolutely no personal information whatsoever. Still, Celine considered the experience another notch on her progress tally.

Harry Potter, his friends, and Draco Malfoy were all in this class, she noted. This would make for an interesting combination. And a volatile one, she noticed with amused dread as Draco sent Harry yet another scathing glare, while the latter simply ignored him altogether.

“My name is Harry James Potter,” the raven-haired boy spoke up when it was his turn. “I like vanilla ice cream and toy soldiers.” He left it at that, leaning back in his seat and meeting Celine’s gaze head-on, almost in an unconscious challenge for her to dare to ask further. She simply smiled faintly in response and moved on to Draco.

“Draco Malfoy, heir to the Malfoy line,” the blonde drawled, staring down at his fingernails in an unimpressed fashion. “I find this exercise to be juvenile, and I’m really wondering what the point of this class is.”

Some of the Slytherins snickered at his words, while the Gryffindors just looked annoyed. Lavender Brown looked over at Celine with wide eyes, as if expecting her to burst into tears at his comment.

To the surprise of all her students, Celine just tilted her head back and released a musical laugh, shoulders shaking with the force of her mirth. The two Houses exchanged mutually bewildered looks.

“Ah– thank you for your honesty, Draco.” She smiled once she sobered up. “I agree, this exercise is quite juvenile, isn’t it? I disliked these myself as a child. However, you’ll come to learn that it really is quite useful to know, for example, your rival’s favourite ice cream flavour. It’s hard to dislike someone so much once you really realize that you’re both human.”

Everyone was mystified by her words. She seemed almost as mysteriously vague in her advice as their Headmaster, they were quickly coming to realize. Draco smoothed out his disgruntlement and slouched in his seat. 

“Since we’ve already taken up much time getting acquainted with one another, we will be doing a simple exercise today.” Celine announced, waving her wand towards the board behind her desk. A piece of chalk rose magically and began writing the lesson plan on the board in neat cursive writing. “You are all in partners for a reason. I’d like you to take the time to draw your partner. It can be in any style you would like, but any crude depictions or bullying in any form will result in deductions of House Points. You have until the end of this class to complete your drawings. All of the materials you need can be found in the cabinets lining the far wall.” Celine took a seat on top of her desk and smiled. “Begin.”

The students rose from their seats and headed towards the cabinets. A steady stream of chatter rose in the room as the children settled in and began the challenging task of drawing their partners. Celine didn’t bother to silence them, she rather enjoyed the warm atmosphere conversation could provide. Satisfied that no one was hexing each other, and the volume was kept low, she pulled out a sketch pad of her own and began to draw the class as they worked.

Though this was a magical arts’ class, Celine wanted to get her students acquainted with the feeling of being hands-on with their work. There was something so intimate about being the one to paint with a brush in canvas, instead of spelling the brush to paint itself. In future classes she would begin teaching them the proper spells, but for now, she would stick with traditional methods. 

“Um… excuse me…” a voice murmured, “I’ve finished my drawing.” 

Celine glanced up and met the eyes of Harry Potter. With a gentle smile, she set down her sketch pad and held out a hand. “That was quick, Harry. Are you sure you’re finished?” He nodded and handed her the paper.

Celine looked down at the drawing and blinked in surprise. There was nothing wrong with it, he actually did a lovely job with the shading and the overall proportions of his partner, Daphne Greengrass, only… “Harry, is there a reason why Daphne doesn’t have eyes in your sketch?” She asked hesitantly, looking up at him.

The boy flushed uncomfortably, fidgeting in place. Celine resisted the urge to soothe and coddle him and instead waited patiently for him to respond. Finally, he mumbled, “Eyes are the ‘window to the soul’, right? I don’t know how to… read people like that. I’m not good with people at all. So… I can’t draw eyes...” Harry sounded ashamed of this fact, and hastily asked, “May I go sit down? Is it alright like this?”

Celine nodded wordlessly, more out of surprise than anything, and the boy quickly escaped back to his seat, where he exchanged a grimace with the curious looks of his new friends. 

Celine gently set down the drawing face-down on her desk, deep in thought. There was something about the way Harry Potter spoke and carried himself that seemed oddly familiar to Celine… and not in a good way. Whatever it was, it sent a spike of worry down her spine. _What could it be?_

Celine’s wand rattled with the Tempus charm she had set to go off five minutes before class ended. Getting to her feet, she clapped her hands and called, “Time is up, darlings! Put away your materials and come hand in your drawings before you leave.”

The class bustled around, the noise level rising as everyone made to do what she asked. A messy line of students formed and one-by-one, the children handed her their illustrations. They ranged from basic to very detailed (more so towards the latter, Celine was delighted to see) and only one or two drawings poked fun at the model, which she would regretfully have to deduct points for. As Celine neatly stacked the drawings, a pale hand suddenly thrusted another one under her nose. Blinking, she glanced up to meet Draco Malfoy’s scowling face.

Before she could respond, he dropped the drawing on the desk and hastily escaped from the classroom without even a goodbye. _What on earth…?_ Frowning, Celine glanced down at the paper – and gasped.

Draco had captured Hermione Granger perfectly, from her bushy locks down to the concentrated furrow of her brow as she worked on her sketch. The shading portrayed soft lighting and highlighted the intelligence in her eyes and the soft curve of her jaw and hands. He had even included an incredible amount of detail in the stitching of her robes. Much care was clearly put into the piece, despite the constricting time limit. It was so incredibly lifelike that at first glance one might think it was a photograph.

Celine sat down with a hand pressed against her lips, staring pensively down at the drawing. Draco had waited to be last in line and wouldn’t stay even a moment to see her reaction… was he ashamed of his talent? Celine didn’t think his parents were especially adverse towards the arts, she had even done business with Lord Malfoy in the past when he commissioned a series of paintings for his manor. _Where could his shame be originating from?_

Harry Potter was ashamed of his perception of others, Draco Malfoy was ashamed of his talent… there was clearly more to her students than Celine initially thought, she was beginning to realize. Something was going on behind the scenes to make them feel this way… but what?

Celine shook her head and sighed. It wasn’t her place to be asking these questions – she was only a Professor, and a brand new one too. Now more than ever was not the time to be nosy about her pupils’ personal lives. “If things grow concerning, I’ll see the Headmaster about it,” she announced to herself resolutely.

With that, Celine pushed her curiosity aside and picked up her quill. It was time to start grading the results of her first-ever lesson at Hogwarts.

-

Celine elected not to attend dinner that night, for perhaps the first time since her arrival. She felt far too thoughtful to be able to sit through a meal in a room full of over four hundred students and the chatty members of staff.

Celine was seated behind her desk in her classroom, where she had been since early morning. The woman was leaning back with the weary posture of someone profoundly exhausted, but she made no effort to pack up and head back to her chambers.

The desk before her was littered with piles upon piles of illustrations, each annotated neatly in the bottom left corner with personal reactions and recommendations from the Visual Arts Professor, who had spent so much of her time studying each with such respect and care. However insightful her little notes were, they had drained her completely, leaving Celine in her current (sleepy) predicament.

“I ought to visit Madame Pomfrey for a _Pepper-Up_ potion of some sort,” she murmured tiredly to the empty room. 

A knock resounded from the door. “Come in!” She called.

Celine had been expecting to see Pomona or Minerva… even Filius was more likely to appear at the door. She had not, however, been expecting to see the twinkling eyes and whiskered face of Albus Dumbledore.

“Headmaster!” She started, sitting up rigidly, exhaustion forgotten. “Come in… how can I help you?”

“I and many others noticed you weren’t at the feast tonight,” the old man said by way of greeting as he descended the amphitheatre steps leisurely, the gold-trimmed hems of his fuscia robes whispering across stone. “I came to check up on you, my dear. Is everything alright?”

Celine smiled warmly, if not a bit sheepishly at Dumbledore. She quickly Transfigured a seat for him once he reached the bottom of the steps. “My workload caught up with me finally, that’s all. I will be right as rain tomorrow morning.”

“First days always are difficult,” Dumbledore agreed, taking a seat. Celine absently noted how strange it was to be the one seated behind the desk with Dumbledore visiting, when she was so used to the opposite. “I’m sure that you’ll be delighted to hear that the first years were inquiring about your absence.” His blue eyes twinkled. “They were saddened to have missed their favourite Professor.”

Celine blushed and was quick to wave off his words. “ _Headmaster_ , it is far to early for anyone to pick favourites!” She huffed. “Besides, I’m sure they are only intrigued because I am the youngest of the staff. Their interest will waver in a day or two, I’m sure.”

“We will see,” he hummed.

Dumbledore peeked down at her desk. “Is this the workload you spoke of?” With Celine’s permission, he picked one up and examined it. The old wizard’s eyes crinkled jovially at the corners when he read the little comments Celine had left. “You treat your students with such care, and only on the first day. I take it these notes are personalized?”

“Each work is an original, it would be foolish to apply the same comments and standards to them all,” Celine replied softly.

Dumbledore set down the paper and smiled at her warmly. “I’m glad to see I made the right decision in reaching out to you, Ms. Grey,” he said. “I have no doubt you will fit right in at Hogwarts.”

Celine coloured and her chest warmed pleasantly. Some of the tension lining her shoulders melted away at his words. Suddenly shy and a bit tongue-tied, Celine hoped the grateful expression on her face was enough to convey her gratitude.

“Well, I’d best be off. I have much to do, and Headmasters never rest!” Dumbledore said jovially, getting to his feet. Celine rose as well out of politeness, ready to escort him out. “Oh, don’t worry about me, Ms. Grey, I can manage on my own. I see you still have some work to do. Ah– that reminds me…” Dumbledore reached down his left sleeve and withdrew a small blue vial, which he set down on her desk with a small clink. 

“What is it, Headmaster?” Celine asked, peering down at the object curiously. Because of her distraction, she failed to note the positively mischievous gleam in the old wizard’s eye.

“A gift… from a friend,” he responded vaguely. “Along with the message– _‘A debt repaid.’_ ”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand…” Celine hesitated.

“You will.” Dumbledore practically sang on his way towards the door. “Goodnight, Ms. Grey.”

Celine was left standing alone once again in her dimly-lit classroom. “It can’t be from Pomona, let alone Pomfrey…” she muttered curiously. Celine reached for the vial and tilted the label towards her.

Scrawled on the label in carefully formed letters were the words, _‘For Long First Days’_.

It was a _Pepper-Up_ potion, hand-brewed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm... I wonder who the potion is from? (evil cackle)
> 
> I will try my best to keep BTSATS canon-compliant, I promise you that!  
> I hope you all enjoyed today’s chapter. My update schedule is still a work in progress, so apologies again for sporadic uploads.
> 
> Much love <3


	5. In Which Celine Grey Befriends A Portrait

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Celine struggles with self-doubt and is beginning to feel the pressure being placed on her shoulders.  
> She makes a new friend in an unlikely place, and a tentative bond unfurls within a certain Potions classroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unedited, as usual.
> 
> EDIT: Changed the Calming Draught to the Draught of Peace. It is better suited for the situation.

_PRESENT DAY - 5 SEPTEMBER 1991_

“This looks fine, Cedric,” Celine said as she scanned the parchment in her hands. With a smile, she handed it back to the third-year Hufflepuff who had been patiently waiting. “I like the part where you decided to go a little in-depth about the Muggle Renaissance period. Very articulately put.”

“Thank you, Professor,” Cedric Diggory smiled widely with a bashful tip of his head. “I’ll see you next class.”

“Until then,” Celine agreed, politely walking him to the door. With a smile and a little wave, she shut it behind him with a sigh.

It had been three days since the new year had officially begun, and Celine was relieved to find herself settling into a sort of rhythm. She would rise early and review her lessons plans for the day, and occasionally finish up some grading that had passed on from the night before. Once that was finished, Celine would dress for the day and head to her classroom, where she would remain until it was time for breakfast in the Great Hall. Afterwards, her day would be riddled with various classes until three o’clock, and Celine would retire to her chambers-slash-office and work on some personal pieces until dinner. Then she would begin grading until her new designated bedtime, eleven o’clock. Sleep, rise, and then repeat.

Following this routine religiously freed up Celine’s schedule quite a bit, considering it was the beginning of the school year and there was barely any material for her to grade. This left time for her to interact with her students of all years, explore, and gradually befriend more and more of the staff. Celine was working on bonding with Professor Aurora Sinistra currently, the impervious Astronomy Professor. Last night Celine had noticed her mouth twitch at one of her comments, so she was proud to say she was making progress in that department.

However, there was one particular surly Professor that she just couldn’t crack – Severus Snape, brilliant Potions Master and resident ‘terror’, according to her gossipy students. Celine had hoped that the Pepper-Up potion was his version of a figurative olive branch (oh yes, it hadn’t taken very long for her to piece the clues together) but it seemed that with Snape, that simply wasn’t the case. She had given him a Treacle Tart, and he had made her a potion in return. It was a debt repaid, and that was that. The Head of Slytherin seemed perfectly content to continue on as if she didn’t exist, which, Celine could admit, stung a little.

She refused to let this small disappointment hinder her, however, and still made daily efforts to draw Snape into little bits of conversation, whether through quips or genuine questions about something or other, both to which he would respond with varying degrees of annoyance. Celine often wondered if a day would come where he would give in to her efforts, or explode. She was hoping more for the former.

Celine had a history of being attracted to sour, unapproachable types, she realized. It was as if the inner Hufflepuff within her was eager to greet the challenge and befriend them. It was developing into a bit of an obsessive bad habit however, she noted sheepishly. People were bound to start questioning her sanity.

Despite her misgivings, Celine had a good feeling about Snape. There was something about the man that hinted at a wonderful personality beneath the prickly, cold exterior that he presented to the world, and she was itching to unravel it quickly. With men like Severus Snape though, Celine knew she had to tread slowly and carefully, and she was fairly confident that in the end her efforts wouldn’t go to waste. Well - perhaps not confident, he was kind of a wild card, but definitely optimistic.

Celine stretched and sighed, feeling exhaustion press heavily against the backs of her eyes. She had no more classes today, and the lack of having anything to do brought her sleepiness to the forefront. She supposed she had been investing a little too much of her energy into the school year, considering how early in the first term it was, but she couldn’t help it! It was simply so exciting, gaining the opportunity to teach at the renowned school that held so many of her beloved memories.

The young Professor rested her forehead gently against the cool wood of her classroom door, her eyes fluttering closed. Some of her insecurities slipped to the surface, whispering doubts into her ears - What if she wasn’t good enough? What if she couldn’t get across to the children, couldn’t pass on her love for the arts? Would she make a fool out of herself?

“It will be okay,” Celine whispered in an effort to soothe herself. She drew herself upright, opening her eyes, and swiftly exited the classroom. Celine began walking without a clear destination in mind, allowing her feet to carry her through the familiar twists and turns of the magnificent stone castle. Unconsciously, she reached out with her magic and smiled when a tendril of something ancient brushed hers. Celine had been in her second year when she had fully come to realize that Hogwarts was not only a magical castle, but it was also sentient to an extent. Presently, as their magics briefly connected, she felt a wash of something akin to warmth and acceptance, like being enveloped in a hug. It brought a smile to her face.

“You are very kind, thank you,” she murmured to the air, receiving a pulse of acceptance and muted affection, before retracting her magic into herself.

Celine blinked and slowed, realizing she had ended up in front of the doors to the Great Hall. Shaking her head at her own absent-mindedness, the young woman pushed open the double doors. Few students were scattered inside in little groups, chatting or doing schoolwork together. Dinner was not for another hour at least, so the Hall was much emptier than Celine was used to. Entering fully, the woman wandered around the room, smiling and greeting familiar faces as she went.

Grey-blue eyes drifted to the High Table. A sigh left her lips unbidden as a memory of a scowling face floated to the surface. If there was one flaw of Celine’s that she despised, it was her inability to move on from whatever was troubling her until it was fixed. And that problem, currently, was that she couldn’t seem to get Professor Snape to _like_ her.

Celine raised her eyes skyward, leaning against a stone wall. “I am a fool,” she groaned in exasperation.

“Whyever for?” A feminine voice asked from above her, curious and slightly nasally in nature. 

Celine started, pushing off the wall and twisting to see who had spoken to her. A portrait of a young dark-haired woman, elegantly dressed, stared down at her with a distinctly unimpressed expression. “I’m sorry, I didn’t notice you.” Celine said dumbly.

The portrait-girl scoffed. “Well, clearly. It’s almost insulting to be perfectly honest. I’ve been hanging in this dusty corner for who knows how long, and I have yet to have a visitor.” Her voice lowered to a grumble. “Helga always was the more popular one.”

“Helga?” Celine inquired.

“You would know her as _‘The Fat Lady’_ ,” the portrait sniffed. “A dear friend of mine. I suppose the one thing I have over her is the use of my name, since no one knows hers.”

“What is your name Miss, if you don’t mind me asking?” Celine asked gently. “It was impolite of me not to ask in the first place, I apologize.”

“O-Oh.” The portrait looked surprised at the question, even a little pleased. Clearly, she wasn’t used to someone showing interest in her, Celine noted sympathetically. “Well… that’s quite alright, I suppose. You were startled, it’s to be expected.” The girl cleared her throat and straightened. “My name is Violet. And… yours?”

“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Violet,” Celine smiled. “My name is Celine Grey, I’m the new Visual Arts Professor here at Hogwarts.”

Violet visibly brightened, the last of her snippiness melting away. “Ooh, I’ve heard about you! All of the portraits are talking about you, you know. There’s never been a Visual Arts course at Hogwarts before. How are you going to manage it all?”

A faint grimace crossed Celine’s face, but it was gone as soon as it appeared, replaced with a patient smile. “I will find a way. The year has only just begun, I have time to come up with a suitable teaching method.”

“Hmm.” Violet gave her a critical once-over, but nodded her approval. “I think you’ll do just fine. Now, back to the matter at hand - why were you calling yourself a fool earlier? You sounded truly serious about it, too.”

Celine hesitated. “I have a bad habit of… _obsessing_ over the little things,” she conceded. “There is a person that despises me, and I cannot figure out how to change his opinion of me. It’s more than a little frustrating to deal with.”

“Not everyone is going to like you,” Violet pointed out, echoing Pomona’s previous advice. Celine groaned softly in acknowledgement. “Honestly Miss Grey, you aren’t going to get anywhere in life if you’re stuck with this mentality.”

“Call me Celine,” The blonde implored, and sighed. “You are absolutely right, of course. I don’t know… I suppose it’s just my inner Hufflepuff shining through. I just can’t wrap my head around the thought that someone could dislike me simply for existing.”

“Well, you’d better wrap your head around it soon!” Violet advised. “I was much the same when I was younger. My first husband was a right jackanape. He could find a fault in me down to one hair being out of place and wouldn’t ever hesitate to let me hear about it!”

“That’s awful,” Celine blanched. She had no idea what a ‘jackanape’ was, but the scorn and disdain in Violet’s voice was enough indication.

“It was,” Violet nodded solemnly. “Good thing I got away when I did, I certainly don’t miss the vile fool. Still, I spent all that time telling myself that it was my fault that he treated me that way. Now I know that of course it wasn’t my fault. Some people are just vile creatures, end of story. The sooner you accept that, the easier life will be.”

Celine left the Great Hall feeling heavy and filled with even more unanswered questions and doubts than before. While Violet the Portrait Girl’s advice was sound, Celine had trouble believing that the surly Potions Master disliked her simply because he was a _vile person_. From what she’d seen, he seemed far too methodical and calculating to waste energy senselessly hating another person. There had to be more than that, there just _had_ to!

Celine brought herself up short, and grimly realized how obsessive her thoughts were becoming. “If anyone will have answers, it will be the Headmaster.” She finally sighed, acknowledging that she had a problem. Celine stood silently for a moment, debating the best way to contact the man. Finally, she sighed and decided it would be best to simply wait until dinner which was, according to a _Tempus Charm_ , in about a half-hour.

The VA Professor hesitated, divided over what to do with herself in the remaining time. Luckily, fate decided for her. Young voices approaching from down the hall attracted her attention.

“- _the audacity_ to try and humiliate me like that! My father will hear about this!”

“Potter is stupid for doing that, doesn’t he know who you are?” Another voice, distinctly more feminine, scoffed. “Picking a blood-traitor over a Malfoy is just simply ridiculous.”

“Well, we can’t hate him too much for that,” a third voice chimed in. “Even though he’s a Halfblood, the bloke apparently didn’t even know he was a wizard until a few days ago.” The owner of the voice sniffed disdainfully. “Some _‘Wizarding Saviour’_ he’s going to be.”

The three children turned the corner into the hall Celine was in, slowing as they noticed the woman. Draco Malfoy, Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini each eyed her critically in turn, with all the uncaring grace of wizarding aristocracy. _‘Slytherins,’_ Celine couldn’t help but think with a touch of fondness.

“Hello, you three.” She smiled gently, turning to face them fully. “I trust you’ve had a fulfilling day of classes?” Pansy scoffed, but was quickly quieted as Blaise subtly elbowed her in the ribs.

“They were fine, Professor,” Draco drawled, not even bothering with the pretense of polite intrigue in light conversation.

Celine raised a brow at his insolence, but did not bother reprimanding him. “I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation… do you three have any problems with Mister Potter?” She inquired.

“Why do you want to know? So you can protect your perfect little Golden Boy?” Pansy sneered, unable to hold her tongue this time. Draco shifted his eyes towards her in subtle shock, while Blaise hissed a scandalized _‘Parkinson!’_

Celine merely smiled, although there was a warning note in her reply. “You are my students, I simply wanted to know if there are any issues that need to be resolved. However, I believe you just answered my question, so thank you for that Pansy.”

Pansy, in turn, looked scandalized at the casual use of her first name. “I- don’t call me that!” She retorted, “Or I’ll report you for inappropriate conduct!”

Celine’s brows rose slightly, giving the girl a look so deeply unimpressed that even Draco was privately impressed by it. “Very well, Miss Parkinson.” She corrected herself, her voice retaining its soft tenor with ease. “If you must know, I was simply concerned on Draco’s behalf here, although it sounds as if you three have everything under control.” She smiled, sudden and bright, and the three students nearly recoiled at the sudden change. “I hope to see you all at dinner then.”

The young professor strode past them without another word, content to continue on her way. The Slytherins stared after her with varying expressions of disdain and surprised incredulity.

“Nice going, Parkinson,” Blaise spoke up dryly, giving the huffy girl an unimpressed look of his own. “You presented yourself with the highest degree of elegance just now, I’m truly envious.”

“Oh, shut up,” Pansy retorted, flustered and frustrated at herself. “It won’t happen again. That Professor is so obviously a Potter-worshiper,” she sneered after the retreating blonde woman. “It’s sickening, right Malfoy?” When the Malfoy heir didn’t respond immediately, she turned to him with furrowed brows. “Malfoy?”

Draco blinked out of his train of thought, turning away from the direction the professor was walking in. “You’d best treat her with respect,” he advised to the shock of both Pansy and Blaise. “I wrote to my father asking about her the other day, and apparently she’s far more… _involved_ in High Society than we’ve given her credit for.”

“Do tell,” Blaise encouraged, eager for this tidbit of information.

Draco smirked. “Surely you’ve heard of the _‘Grey Collection’_.”

“The famous series of paintings the Minister recently installed in the Ministry building? What about them?”

Draco gave Blaise a look. It only took the Italian a few moments to piece it together, and he blanched. “You can’t be serious! _Her?!_ ”

Draco nodded, delighted to see the normally composed boy exposing a crack in his facade. “The _‘Grey Collection’_ , as well as _‘Euphoria’_ , the _‘Blue Lady’_ , and the collection commissioned by my father. Professor Grey painted all of them. She’s a renowned artist in the Wizarding World apparently, the only reason why we didn’t know this sooner is because she’s been rather conservative with public appearances.”

Blaise was considerably impressed. “My mother adores her works, I suspect she wants a commission for herself. And to think we believed she was just another giggly Hufflepuff.”

“She was also the apprentice of Lady Amethyst Rain, the most famous visual artist in all of Wizarding Europe.”

“ _Merlin._ ”

Both boys glanced over at Pansy Parkinson in unison. She had been awfully quiet these past few minutes. The girl had gone bone-white, and was staring sightlessly ahead of her.

“Mother is going to kill me,” she whispered.

-

“Celine, dear, ah…” Pomona cleared her throat lightly. “Do you perhaps have an inkling as to why the entire Slytherin table is staring at you?”

“I have no idea.” Celine responded miserably, pushing the baked potatoes around on her plate. She did, in fact, have an idea, and it wasn’t good. Did the Slytherin trio spread some sort of nasty rumour about her in retaliation for their earlier confrontation? Yes, that had to be it. Celine sighed despondently, setting down her fork. 

_‘Five days into the term and I’ve already made a mess of things,’_ she thought to herself grimly.

“...right.” There was a moment of silence, and Celine felt rather than saw the concerned glance being exchanged between Pomona and Minerva over her head. 

Celine drew a breath and braved a glance upwards. She blanched when she realized Pomona hadn’t been exaggerating; the entire Slytherin table _was_ staring at her, and quite blatantly too. She maintained eye-contact for a few moments, and when nothing changed, she gave them a hesitant smile. Almost immediately the table dissolved into whispering. Celine internally grimaced and returned her eyes to her plate, though she had no appetite.

Merlin, it was like being in school all over again. Children could be ruthless. 

“I think…” Celine said slowly, pushing her plate away, “That I’d best retire early this evening. It’s been a long day.”

“Oh, are you sure?” Pomona frowned, her aged eyes roving the pale face of the young VA Professor. “Hm, you are looking a little peaky, dear. You should stop by the Infirmary for a remedy.”

Celine couldn’t help the smile that tugged at her lips at Pomona’s motherly concern. It warmed her insides, melting some of the ice that had been lodged in the pit of her stomach since dinner had started. “I will,” she reassured gently, rising from her seat. “I wish you all a good evening, then.”

There was a chorus of murmured goodbye’s, though two voices remained absent - Headmaster Dumbledore and Severus Snape, both of whom had not shown up to dinner. Celine dryly thought to herself that it would be best if she didn’t pay that detail any mind, lest she started obsessing again.

The Visual Arts Professor descended from the High Table as elegantly as she could under the weight of over twenty pairs of cunning eyes. Celine couldn’t leave the room fast enough. The doors of the Great Hall closed firmly behind her, abruptly cutting off the noise of dinner chatter, leaving her alone in the silent corridor. Celine felt as if she could finally breathe again. Taking a moment to gather herself, she began walking in the direction of the Infirmary.

Celine knew it was foolish to take the childrens’ actions to heart, but she couldn’t help it. She had made a full circle, it seemed. She had a deep innate desire to be liked and accepted by others, and when that desire wasn’t being fulfilled it left her feeling panicky and full of sickly dread.

And Celine loved children. She _adored_ them. They were brilliant little people with fresh minds and imaginations, eyes unclouded from exposure to the dark world around them. They were frank, expressive, and pure. So to be disliked by even a child… well, it certainly did things to one’s self-esteem.

Celine trudged into the Hospital Wing with a heavy heart. The more she dwelled on the issue, the more miserable she felt. _‘Merlin, forget magic - the enemy could kill me with just a bad word,’_ she mentally snarked to herself, frustrated by her own sensitive nature.

“Celine? What can I help you with dear, isn’t it dinner?” Madam Pomfrey’s voice called out from across the large hall.

“Ah yes, well… I had to retire early, I wasn’t feeling well, you see…” Celine smiled, though her voice trailed off when she realized they were not alone. In fact, both Headmaster Dumbledore and Professor Snape were standing a mere few feet away, staring at her. Feeling distinctly uncomfortable, she took a step back. “Apologies, was I… interrupting something…?”

“Nonsense, come in child.” Madam Pomfrey clucked, approaching the nervous blonde. She herded the girl in and shut the door behind her with a wave of her wand. “Now, what seems to be the matter?”

“I just feel a little ill,” Celine replied quietly, trying to ignore the eyes boring into the back of her head. “Pomona suggested I come here for a remedy.”

“Well, let me just run a quick diagnostic on you first.” Madam Pomfrey smiled. The expression melted away and was replaced with a pointed look behind her. “Severus, you’ll find what you need in the back room. Have we gone over everything, Albus?”

“Oh yes,” the jovial old man smiled as his dark-haired companion wordlessly strode towards the back room. “Thank you very much, Poppy.” He turned his attention to Celine, the twinkle in his eye muting in mild concern. “Are you well, Miss Grey?”

Celine tried to smile. “I will be Headmaster, no need for worry.”

The man rested a wrinkled hand lightly on her shoulder in a show of support. “What do you say to a spot of afternoon tea tomorrow after classes, in my office? I haven’t had the opportunity to sit down and chat with you in a while, Miss Grey.”

She could feel her smile becoming more genuine, a tendril of relief unfurling in her chest. “That would be lovely, Headmaster, thank you.”

“I will see you at four’o’clock, then!” Dumbledore smiled. With a quick goodbye to the two women, the old wizard made a swift exit.

Madam Pomfrey shook her head fondly as she guided Celine to an unoccupied bed to sit, clucking her tongue. “That man… I haven’t seen him this inspired in years. No doubt it’s because young Mister Potter has begun his schooling within Hogwarts’ walls.”

“I can understand his excitement, we are witnessing history,” Celine replied, watching as Madam Pomfrey pulled out her wand and wordlessly casted the diagnostic spell. 

“Indeed. Now, for your diagnosis - you seem perfectly healthy, the only thing to note is a particularly elevated level of anxiety. Is something bothering you that you’d like to talk about, Celine?” The mediwitch asked, replacing her wand in the folds of her medical robes.

Celine hesitated. Now that she thought about it, her problems were rather… trivial. As if sensing what she was thinking, Madam Pomfrey rolled her eyes. “None of that dear, it’s best not to lock away these emotions. They’ll only explode later.”

“I just…” Celine sighed, dropping her head. She gazed down at her interlaced hands that rested in her lap, still stained by paint and dark smudges of charcoal from today’s classes. “I feel so incompetent. Like a newborn foal, I’m just stumbling my way through this, day by day, completely blind…” Tears pressed against her lashes, unbidden, blurring her vision. “I have no mentor to teach me, no guidelines to follow… all of Britain is watching me, waiting for an error in my ways. I want to prove that the Visual Arts is not a subject to be scorned or ridiculed, but… what if I am not the right person to do it? What if I mess things up even more?”

That… hadn’t been what she had been intending to say, but as soon as the words left her lips she felt noticeably lighter. It was a concern that had been lingering at the back of her mind ever since Dumbledore had reached out to her and her master, growing in strength with each passing day. Combined with Professor’s Snape’s dislike and the Slytherins’ scorn, Celine could feel herself cracking under the pressure.

“Oh, child…” Madam Pomfrey sighed in distress, putting a hand on Celine’s shoulder. “Well, I believe a mild _Draught of Peace_ is in order, and a good night’s rest. Unfortunately I’m out of stock, but I can - oh Severus, perfect timing!”

Celine did not look up as the darkly-robed man slowed his stride near the bed she was resting on. She could practically feel the waves of annoyance and impatience radiating off of the man. “Perfect timing for what, exactly?” He inquired flatly. Celine didn’t think she’d ever heard a voice that dry before.

“I know the next batch of _Draught of Peace_ isn’t due until tomorrow, but I was wondering if you could help poor Celine here by brewing her one? She’s under much duress currently.”

Celine couldn’t help the grimace that slithered over her face at Madam Pomfrey’s words, knowing that if there was anything the Potions Professor hated the most, it was pitying people.

“There truly is no need…” she murmured sheepishly, sensing the ire that was growing in the man.

“Nonsense.” Pomfrey tutted. “You will do it Severus, won’t you?”

There was a moment of silence as the Potions Master tried to reel in his irritation. When it became obvious that Madam Pomfrey wasn’t planning on backing down, he released a drawn-out, long-suffering sigh.

“Very well,” came his clipped response. “If you will follow me, Professor Grey.” He strode from room without a look back, uncaring if she would follow or not.

Celine started at the use of her title (had he ever even addressed her by name before this?) and quickly got to her feet. With a fleeting smile and a ‘Thank you’ to the resident mediwitch, she hurried after him.

“Merlin,” Celine huffed to herself when she realized the man was already halfway down the corridor and about to make a right turn. “Is he even human?”

It took some effort, but eventually Celine managed to catch up to the Professor. She was mildly out of breath, flushed, and annoyed, but she kept her sentiments to herself in favour of not irking the man further. He was just a walking explosion waiting to happen. 

The two Professors walked together silently, one’s footsteps loud as he strode with purpose, the other elegant and silent, as if merely a shadow. When the silence grew unbearable to Celine, she finally said softly, “If you are already busy, there is no need to make me a potion. I can manage.”

“As much as I would love an evening of relaxation, I would not risk Poppy’s wrath.” Came the short reply. Celine was inexplicably pleased that he had not included a cutting insult. His response was almost civil.

Celine smiled privately to herself, keeping her eyes trained frontwards. “Then, thank you. I appreciate you going out of your way.” The man grunted quietly in response, but made no other comment.

Their rapid steps lead them to the dungeons quickly, and the Potions Master wasted no time pushing open the doors to his laboratory and shedding his outer robe. The man was always wearing nothing but black, Celine noticed belatedly. She glanced down at her powdery blue frock.

“This shouldn’t take long, you may have a seat if you wish,” he said briskly from across the room, startling her. Celine complied, taking a seat on a bench at one of the tables. As the Professor practically glided around his classroom with years of expertise fuelling his steps, Celine allowed herself to look around the room. She hadn’t had the chance to appreciate it when she was last here.

Though clearly worn down from years of use, the room looked thoroughly cleaned and carefully maintained. All ingredients were stored in sterilized containers, the worn and stained counters were clean, and the potion-making instruments were polished until they gleamed. Celine could sense the deep respect placed in the environment. She could certainly relate, she put just as much care into her own studio.

“How intense is your anxiety?”

Celine started. “I - pardon?”

The Potions Master did not turn to face her from across the room. He was chopping ingredients while monitoring the temperature of the small cauldron beside him. “Your anxiety. Is it intense? Are you on the brink of a panic attack, or are you merely experiencing internal discomfort?”

“I- I don’t think it is intense anymore,” she replied hesitantly. “It is mostly just discomfort. Honestly Professor, I do not want to inconvenience-”

“A mild _Draught of Peace_ , then,” he interrupted smoothly, ignoring her words. “A Draught that is too strong will inflict negative side effects on the consumer.”

Celine tilted her head, curiosity momentarily overriding her hesitance. “There are side-effects depending on the person’s emotional state?” She asked before she could prevent herself.

The Potions Master did not answer her for a long while. Celine was beginning to believe he had not heard her, or was simply ignoring her, when he finally responded to her surprise. “Yes. If, for example, I were to provide you with a _Draught of Peace_ at full strength when you are suffering from mild-to-no symptoms of anxiety, it could result in your heart stopping. The purpose of this potion is to provide the consumer with a sense of peacefulness, lowering their heart-rate. If your heart-rate is already low, consuming the potion at full strength could be fatal.”

Celine had been listening with wide eyes, partially because this was news to her, and partially because this was the most the man had spoken to her since they had met. “I had believed the potion to be virtually harmless,” she responded dumbly after a moment.

“All potions have side-effects if not consumed properly. It is basic science.”

“Hm.” That made sense to her. A thought came to mind. “If an overdose of _Draught of Peace_ lowers your heart-rate to the point of fatality, does that mean that the _Pepper-Up_ potion provides an opposite reaction, but also results in fatality?”

Professor Snape poured a small bowl of what he had been chopping into the bubbling cauldron, and began stirring systematically in a clockwise and anti-clockwise motion. “Not necessarily. The _Pepper-Up_ potion was originally created with the intent to cure the consumer of symptoms of the common cold. It can be used to provide energy to the consumer as well. It does not prompt a burst of adrenaline, which would be the main link to a raised heart-rate, it simply alleviates feelings of exhaustion.”

“What would be the side-effects of an overdose then?”

“Insomnia, most likely,” the Potions Master responded dryly. He poured the bubbling liquid into a siphon connected to a glass vial. Once it was full, he set aside the instruments and pulled out his wand to cast a cooling charm on the beverage.

“That was quick,” Celine noted, impressed. She had honestly expected no less from a Potions Master, but it was still impressive to witness. Their fingers brushed as he handed her the vial, and he suddenly drew back as if burned. Celine pretended not to notice, for no reason but to alleviate the sudden tightness in her chest. “Thank you,” she said quietly, and downed the vial in one gulp. She wrinkled her nose at the taste and set the empty vial down, already feeling the effects of the potion washing over her and soothing the tension lining her lithe limbs.

The Professor looked distinctly uncomfortable at the ease she was showing in her presence, and wary, like a wild animal assessing a potential threat. Celine distantly wondered if the man was just incredibly socially awkward and used his prickly temper as a defense mechanism.

Celine, whether because of the potion’s effects or her success at prompting conversation before, found herself prompting the man again. “Are you excited for your classes tomorrow?”

Professor Snape gave her a withering look, and that was the only answer she needed. Her lips twisted into a sheepish smile. “No light talk, then. Understood.”

She closed her eyes briefly, savouring the feeling of not being so stressed for once, although she could feel his gaze resting on her. Celine wondered what expression he was wearing. “I love teaching,” she sighed. “I didn’t think I would ever be one to do it, but here I am. I love it immensely.” She opened her eyes and dropped them to the table in front of her, grey-blue eyes unseeing. “I only wish I knew what I was doing.”

The room remained quiet. Feeling foolish for dumping her feelings on an unwilling listener, Celine got to her feet with pinked cheeks. “I won’t take up any more of your time,” she said quietly, embarrassment colouring her voice. “Thank you again for the potion. Enjoy your evening, Professor Snape.”

She quietly walked to the door, her footsteps sounding obscenely loud in the stillness of the room. Just as she reached the threshold, his voice stopped her.

“It is not difficult to brew the _Draught of Peace_ or the _Pepper-Up potion_. If you are ever in need of either…” the rest of his words remained unspoken, but Celine caught the meaning anyway. Her heart warmed and her cheeks pinked again.

“I will keep that in mind,” she said softly, a little smile toying at the corners of her mouth. “Goodnight, Professor Snape.”

Celine practically floated back to her quarters, she was feeling so light. She felt rejuvenated by the knowledge that the Professor did not hate her, and that he was even beginning to _tolerate_ her. So despite the rest of her problems looming over her shoulder as a worrisome shadow, Celine fell asleep with a smile on her face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for my absence. School is officially over, so I can finally turn my full attention back to my writing! Hooray!
> 
> Please don't hesitate to leave any feedback. If you notice any inconsistencies or errors, feel free to point them out.
> 
> Much love!


	6. In Which Celine Grey Has A Very Bad Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Celine finally asks for help, but the results aren't what she expected. 
> 
> Alternatively - she has her first Very Bad Day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are mostly going day-by-day here in the beginning, simply to establish the world and the characters, but once everyone is comfortably settled, the plot will parallel that of The Philosopher's Stone - with some minor changes. If you feel as if the speed of the novel is tedious, don't hesitate to let me know. All feedback is welcome.
> 
> Enjoy the chapter!
> 
> NOTE: Unedited, as usual.

_PRESENT DAY - 6 SEPTEMBER 1991_

“Good afternoon, I hope your morning classes were fulfilling!” Celine smiled, her eyes brushing over a sea of red and green. To her surprise, a cacophony of groans rose from the Gryffindors.

“Well,” she let out a startled laugh, leaning against the front of her desk. “That is an interesting reaction. Before we begin today’s lesson, is there anything anyone wants to get off of their chest? What classes did you have?”

“Double Potions, Professor,” a sandy blonde Gryffindor spoke up grimly. “With… Professor Snape.” Each Gryffindor collectively winced at the memory of the scowling, fearsome man. Some, like Neville Longbottom and Ronald Weasley, still heard his harsh berating comments ringing in their ears. All in all, it was not a good introduction to the course for the House of the Brave.

“Ah, I see,” Celine said solemnly, struggling not to let her amusement surface at the looks of distaste on her students’ faces, while simultaneously sympathizing with them. “Thank you for sharing, Seamus. Luckily for you lot, you are safe in my classroom. Now - push your discomfort to the back of your minds, and let us begin today’s lesson.

“Last class, your assignment was to capture the essence of your partner in a timed sketch. The majority of you did marvellously, although some of you decided to get creative in your rather… _graphic_ caricatures of each other.” She gave a pointed look to Ronald Weasely and Theodore Nott respectively, prompting a chorus of giggles from the rest of the class. “Today, instead of each other, we will be focusing on the four Houses themselves. Now, what can you tell me about them? Anyone?”

Hermione Granger’s hand immediately shot up in the air, as well as quite a few other students - it was an easy question, with little to no risk of being humiliated for a wrong answer. The Gryffindors were still a little sensitive from Snape’s reign of terror that morning.

“Yes, Hermione, what have you got?” Celine smiled.

“During the tenth century, four of the greatest wizards and witches came together to form Hogwarts’ School of Witchcraft and Wizardry,” the bushy-haired girl began matter-of-factly, lowering her hand. “Their names were Godric Gryffindor, Salazar Slytherin, Rowena Ravenclaw and Helga Hufflepuff. The four Houses were named after them.”

“Very good, Hermione, five points to Gryffindor.” Celine praised. “Anyone else?” Another hand rose. “Yes, go ahead, Daphne.”

“The purpose of the four Houses is to Sort wizards and witches into areas specified to their needs and strengths,” the blonde Slytherin responded primly. “For example, a wizard with a curious streak and a thirst for knowledge would most likely be Sorted into Ravenclaw, the House of Knowledge. They are not required to go into the best House for them, but it is recommended because it is the environment in which they are guaranteed to thrive the most.”

“Excellently put, Daphne,” Celine beamed. “Five points to Slytherin. My, aren’t I lucky to have such an intelligent class!”

Curiously, out of the corner of her eye, Celine could see Harry Potter fidgeting in his seat. His face wore an unreadable expression, but there was an uncertainty in his eyes that puzzled her. _‘What was it that Daphne said to bother him so?’_

“Professor, if I may be so bold as to ask, why are you asking us about the four Houses?” Pansy Parkinson, of all people, chimed in. Celine was surprised by the politeness in her tone and attitude, which was such a sharp contrast from the day before.

“Well, Miss… Parkinson,” Celine began a little hesitantly, unsure if the girl was still uncomfortable with her using her given name, “I was just getting to that. Your assignment today is to pick a House and create a piece describing it from your point of view, though purely through artistic expression - meaning, you are not to write anything down. All materials will be provided for your use, and you have the entire class period and next class to work on it. I encourage you to make your piece about a House that is not your own, of course, to broaden your horizons. Are there any questions?”

“Is there anything specific that we have to create?” Hermione hesitantly asked, looking as if she’d sucked on a lemon at the word ‘create’. “A House Crest, or…?”

Celine raised a brow at her, but maintained her kind smile. “It could be anything down to a blob of colours, if that is what that House represents to you,” she said gently. “The point of this assignment is not to be too literal. The challenge will be trying to convey your feelings, thoughts, and opinions through art. Try to capture the message you are trying to express to the viewer.”

Hermione did not look reassured in the least. If anything, she looked even more panicked now that there were no guidelines for her to follow, to Celine’s amusement. ‘Well, art isn’t for everyone,’ she thought to herself, and called for the class to begin.

-

“Draco,” Celine called over the chattering students filing out of her classroom, attracting the attention of the blonde Slytherin. “Please stay back a moment, I need to speak with you.”

Ron Weasley sneered victoriously at the boy, no doubt convinced that the young Malfoy heir was in trouble for some reason. Harry Potter did not seem interested in the least, and was quick to drag the freckled redhead from the room.

Draco Malfoy gave Celine a cautious, mildly annoyed look for the inconvenience, but retreated towards her desk anyways. “Yes Professor? Will this be quick? I have Transfiguration in a few minutes.” He said boredly, shifting the books in his arms.

Celine smiled, nonplussed. “This will only take a moment of your time.” She opened one of the drawers to her desk and pulled out a folder. She withdrew a piece of paper and set it down in front of the boy, watching his expression carefully. “I couldn’t help but notice your assignment when it was handed to me the other day.”

Draco sneered defensively, his grip almost imperceptibly tightening on his books. “Was it really that bad, Professor? Not up to par with your _standards_?” He taunted, unable to help himself, knowing very well this made him a hypocrite for reprimanding Pansy for her attitude towards the VA Professor the evening before.

“Quite the contrary, actually.” Celine suddenly leaned forward in her seat, making Draco rear back uncertainly. His disdainful expression faltered at the sparkles in her eyes. “It is incredible! I had no idea you were hiding so much talent behind all that peacocking-”

“Peacocking?!” The boy squawked indignantly, but she just continued as if she hadn’t heard him.

“-and when I tell you my jaw dropped, that was no exaggeration,” she finished with a beaming grin. “You are miraculously talented, Mister Malfoy.”

The boy visibly faltered. Celine, in the week she’d known Draco, had never seen this much discomposure before. “I… well, obviously I am the best,” he finally declared with a self-righteous huff. “I’m a Malfoy, and Malfoy’s excel at everything!”

“Do your parents know of your talent, Draco?” Celine asked gently. That was a mistake.

Draco drew himself up, anger flitting across his face, sharp and quick. “It doesn’t matter if they know, Professor, art is hardly worth my time anyways.” He spat. “Are you finished prying into my private life, or may I leave?”

The grin faded and slipped from Celine’s face, replaced by a somber look. “Of course, I’m sorry to keep you waiting,” she said softly, getting to her feet. “Let me see you out.”

She walked her student to the door, mournfully watching him fume out of the corner of her eye. ‘I pushed too far, too quickly. His anger is justifiable,’ she mentally sighed, berating herself.

Celine paused in the doorway, giving Draco an apologetic smile. “I meant no offence, Draco,” she said quietly, catching his eye. “I apologize for going too far, I got caught up in my excitement.”

“It’s fine, Professor,” he responded in a tone that hinted it was most certainly not fine.

“I look forward to seeing your next assignment, nothing brings me more joy than seeing gifted students flourish.” She smiled. “Have a good afternoon.”

Draco’s anger had faded into irritation, allowing him to retrieve his aristocratic persona. “Thank you, Professor,” he muttered, and disappeared down the corridor.

Celine closed the door and rested her forehead against it with a loud groan. She felt like such a fool! With guilt wracking at her insides, Celine glumly wrapped up her afternoon routine, spelled brushes and papers fitting across the room in graceful arcs as they righted themselves in their respective places. 

With that finished, Celine lowered her wand with a despondent sigh. She raised her chin to gaze up at the stained glass ceiling of her classroom, grey-blue eyes tracing over the engraved illustrations unseeingly. 

As an artist, nothing hurt her more than seeing a prodigy shy away from their talents, especially one like Draco Malfoy, who already seemed capable of capturing the beauty of the world in his pieces, despite only being at the tender age of eleven. Celine had trouble wrapping her mind around the idea that Lord Malfoy would shame his son for his talents - after all, he seemed quite enthralled with visual artworks, to the point of commissioning a rather expensive series from Celine herself - so what could be the source of Draco’s anxiety? Did he perhaps believe that being a talented visual artist would portray him in an effeminating light? Art was often misconstrued as a womanly passage of time nowadays, especially in Muggle culture from what she’d seen. Celine knew multiple male artists who had struggled with that hurdle in the beginning of their careers, but all it had taken was some conditional thinking.

 _‘Well, I couldn’t very well condition a child,’_ Celine thought, aghast.

A faint knock at the door withdrew the young woman from her thoughts. Hearing a muffled voice on the other side, she called, “Come in!”

In stepped the small form of a student, though certainly not one she’d been expecting - it was Harry Potter, the _Boy Who Was Sort Of Drowning In His Robes_. He was incredibly tiny, waifish, and Celine was constantly reminded of it whenever she set eyes on him. 

“Ah, Harry,” she smiled, the expression a bit strained. “Is everything alright, dear?”

The tiny boy’s cheeks pinked lightly at the term of endearment. Large green eyes dropped to the floor in a nervous gesture. “I think I forgot my quill here… Professor,” he murmured shyly.

Celine softened. She approached the young boy and gently escorted him inside the room. “Well, that’s quite alright, it happens to all of us. Do you remember where you left it?”

The boy nodded, and quickly scampered off to retrieve his forgotten instrument. Across the room, he straightened and held it up to Celine victoriously. She couldn’t help the warm grin spreading over her features at the adorable gesture.

Celine leaned against the wall beside the front door, crossing her arms casually. “Harry, how do you feel about today’s assignment?” She asked. “Have you encountered any difficulties?”

“I… I think I can manage this one, Professor,” Harry responded quietly. “I don’t have to draw any people, right?”

“No, not unless you feel the need to,” came her gentle response. “Just do whatever feels comfortable. Have you decided which House you would like to portray?”

A series of emotions flitted over the Potter heir’s face, each too quick in passing to be discerned. “I… Hufflepuff, I think. Seems easy enough.”

“As long as you are having no trouble, then go right ahead.” She said encouragingly. “Now, I’m afraid I will have to cut this short, dear, I have to meet with the Headmaster soon.”

“With Dumbledore?” Harry perked up slightly.

“Headmaster Dumbledore,” Celine corrected, and smiled. “Yes, I’m to have tea with him. Is there anything you’d like me to pass on to him?”

Harry blushed, shaking his head sheepishly. “No, there’s nothing.” He mumbled.

“How about I tell him you’d like to come over for tea sometime as well?” Celine suggested, reading between the lines of his posture. He seemed far too shy to even request such a simple thing, she noted bemusedly. 

Harry’s face brightened, and he nodded eagerly. “Thank you, Professor,” he said genuinely, such a sharp contrast from Draco’s bitter echo of the words earlier.

With a brief goodbye, the waifish boy rushed off to wherever his next class was, and Celine was alone once more.

-

_DUMBLEDORE’S OFFICE - 3:39 PM_

“This is a lovely blend,” Celine commented, peering down into the steaming teacup that she held. “Chamomile?”

“I heard that you were having a difficult few days, so I thought a calming tea would be best,” Dumbledore replied, sitting across from her with a little sigh. His eyes crinkled jovially over his half-moon glasses. “How are you doing, Miss Grey?”

“Celine, Headmaster,” she implored, and sighed. “I’m… well, I could be better, in all honesty. I just feel so unsure, a-and scared all the time. I wish I had some sort of reference as to how teaching Visual Arts is supposed to go.” 

“Ah, yes, I could see how that is a concern for you,” the old wizard nodded sagely. “Have you written to Lady Rain recently? Perhaps she could have some advice for you.”

“I sent her an owl yesterday,” Celine said softly. “I won’t be expecting a response for a while, she’s quite a busy woman.”

“Indeed she is.” Dumbledore smiled knowingly. “However, I think you underestimate her love for you, her favourite apprentice. I have no doubt Amethyst would drop everything if you needed her.”

Celine smiled into her teacup, cheeks pinking. “That’s precisely what I’m worried about,” she protested lightly. “Ms. Rain has far too much to do to waste time helping me through something so trivial. She’s the most sought-after artist in Wizarding Europe, for Merlin’s sake!”

“I can see it will take much to convince you,” Dumbledore shook his head, chuckling lightly. “This level of stubbornness is on par with Severus’s!”

“Severus?” Celine echoed.

“Why yes, Severus Snape, dear.” Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled. “He’s much the same, in that regard - he can’t believe that anyone would put him over their own occupations, even once and awhile.”

“Well, it simply isn’t practical,” Celine argued, privately pleased that there was something she and Professor Snape had in common. “I’m sure I can figure out this dilemma on my own… eventually… there’s no need to drag my former master into things.”

“Very well,” Dumbledore conceded, “But you can come to us, the rest of Hogwarts’ staff, all the same. Teaching, no matter the subject, is fundamentally the same. We are here for you, Celine.”

“Thank you,” Celine said genuinely. 

They sat in quiet contentment for a while, simply sipping their tea and enjoying each other’s presence. Finally, Celine set her empty cup down in its saucer and sighed. 

“There is… something else,” she admitted reluctantly.

“Oh?” The Headmaster inquired knowingly. “What else is troubling you, my dear?”

The young witch visibly wilted in her seat, taking on a disheartened expression. “I think the Slytherins hate me,” she said glumly.

To Dumbledore’s credit, he did not laugh out loud. “Why do you think so?” He asked her.

“The Tetchy Trio- I mean,” she corrected herself hastily, “Miss Parkinson and the Misters Malfoy and Zabini don’t seem to like me all that much. Their word seems to be law among the first years, and word spreads within Houses, and they were all staring at me at dinner…” she sighed despondently. “I fear they may have spread some horrible rumour and now the entire House will no longer respect me.”

Dumbledore couldn’t repress his reaction this time. Shoulders shaking with mirth, he struggled to get himself under control as Celine stared at him, unimpressed.

“You know, you could’ve simply gone with the ‘don’t be ridiculous’ route,” she said flatly. “There’s no need to laugh, Headmaster.”

“Oh- ohoho- I wasn’t laughing at you, my dear, of course not,” Dumbledore gasped, smiling as he sobered up. “Merely… I’ve never heard such a nickname before. I hope you don’t call them that in person!”

“No, I only think it,” she admitted sheepishly. “I try to come up with nicknames when I find myself with nothing to do. For example, I refer to Miss Granger and Misters Potter and Weasley as the Golden Trio.”

“Miss Granger?” Dumbledore inquired, his brows raising. “I was under the impression she was not friends with the boys.”

“Not yet,” Celine said confidently. “But I’ve got a sense for these sorts of things - friendship things, I mean. I guarantee that by the end of the year, the Golden Trio will be as thick as thieves.”

“The Golden Trio,” the Headmaster echoed with a smile. “I quite like that one. Keep this between us, but-” he lowered his voice conspiratorially, “I think I enjoy the Tetchy Trio as well.”

“We can hear you, Albus,” a portrait on the wall spoke up dryly, startling Celine. It was that of Phineas Nigellus Black, a former Headmaster. “Honestly, I’m surprised you aren’t shouting your blatant dislike of Slytherins from the rooftops already.”

“I haven’t the faintest idea of what you speak of, Phineas,” Dumbledore said brightly.

Phineas Black rolled his eyes and glowered down at Celine. She tried her very hardest not to be intimidated by an animated painting, but the man had been infamous for his terrible glares. “You, girl,” he ordered. “You’re a Hufflepuff, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Celine replied slowly, unsure where he was going with this.

“Stop thinking like one.” He barked. “If you want the Slytherins to respect you, then you’ve got to think like a Slytherin. You think that House cares to hear you babbling on about cuddles and friendship and all that ridiculous, syrupy junk? You’ve got to put your foot down and demand respect, or else they’ll never give it to you.”

Celine was more than a little offended by his assumptions about her House, but she wisely shoved down her words of protest. “I’m not exactly the most assertive person around,” she pointed out feebly. “And… wouldn’t that be kind of mean?”

Phineas rolled his eyes so hard they nearly disappeared into his skull. “Hufflepuffs,” he groaned in disgust, got up from his seat, and _exited his portrait._

“Ignore Phineas, my dear, he seems to be constantly stuck in a loop of bad days,” Dumbledore said cheerfully. “You just keep being you, and all will be well.”

“Somehow, I doubt that,” she murmured, crestfallen.

“Well, then why don’t you ask Severus what he thinks?” The Headmaster suggested. “No one would know the Slytherins better than him, after all. He’s practically their surrogate father for nine months out of twelve each year.”

Celine had a hard time imagining Professor Snape as anyone’s parent. The concept of those two mixing was so bizarre in her mind that she decided it would be best not to think of it at all. “I don’t want him to hate me!” Celine exclaimed. “We just started making progress, Headmaster! All of that hard work will disappear down the drain if I go up to him and say _‘Oh, hello Professor Snape, how are you this fine morning? By the way, I think three of your Slytherins have hatched a plot against me and have virtually declared me their enemy to your entire House, isn’t that funny!’_ ”

“On the contrary, I don’t find it funny at all,” a voice said frostily from behind her. Celine paled.

“Ah, Severus! What lovely timing, we were just speaking of you,” Dumbledore beamed over her shoulder, blind to the internal meltdown Celine was having. “Would you like a cup of tea? It’s chamomile, today.”

“Speaking of me behind my back? How typical of you, Albus.” Professor Snape sneered, coming up at Celine’s left. His posture screamed ‘irritated’, and he ignored her completely, much to her relief and simultaneous panic. It was all she could do not to sink down in her seat and will herself to disappear.

“Only good things, I assure you,” Dumbledore smiled. “Why don’t you have a seat. Tea?” The glimmer in his wrinkled blue eyes sharpened.

 _‘No one has mastered the art of passive ordering more than Albus Dumbledore,’_ Celine thought. Her amazement grew as the surly Potions’ Master actually obeyed, dropping into the armchair to her left with an annoyed sigh. He refused the tea.

“May I inquire as to why I’ve become the topic of conversation for your little _tea party?_ ” Snape sneered.

“Well, it would seem that our lovely Celine has encountered a bit of trouble with the Slytherins, and is unsure how to proceed with them,” Dumbledore filled him in jovially, somehow remaining blissfully unaware of Celine’s visibly mounting horror. “We were wondering if you could provide us with some advice, or your assistance if you are amenable.”

Celine risked a glance at Professor Snape from the corner of her eye. The dark-haired man was pinching the bridge of his impressive nose in visible exasperation, as if he wished he could be anywhere but there.

“What, exactly, is it that my Snakes have - _allegedly_ \- done?” Snape finally responded through gritted teeth.

Feeling suddenly overwhelmingly guilty, Celine tried to diffuse the situation. “It could be just all in my head,” she said hastily, averting her eyes to her lap. “After all, other than a bit of attitude, no one’s actually said anything outright to me… I only felt uncomfortable with all of the staring going on last night, so I assumed one of the children said something about me, and…” she winced, realizing how trivial her problem seemed once spoken aloud, “...I was wondering if you knew a way I could, ah- get through to them… somehow.”

The silence that followed her stunted explanation was deafening. Celine could feel the icy ball of anxiety within her chest squeezing tighter with each passing second. She wondered if she’d made a horrible mistake by bringing up this topic at all. Mentally, she cursed Dumbledore for manipulating them both into this situation, then backtracked. Instead, she cursed herself for not trying to deal with this on her own.

 _‘This is what happens when you ask people to help you,’_ her mind whispered.

“Professor Grey,” Snape said in an alarmingly quiet voice, “Do you mean to tell me that I was interrupted in my potion-making and summoned all the way up here because you _think_ House Slytherin is ‘plotting against’ _you?_ ”

“Now, Severus,” Dumbledore said evenly, “There’s no need to overreact-”

That was the wrong thing to say. “Overreact?” The Head of Slytherin hissed. “If anyone is overreacting, Albus, it’s the half-baked Arts Professor sitting beside me. Any self-respecting adult would use their brains and realize that they have the authority to demand respect from their students, instead of crying to the Headmaster at the first sign of a conflict!”

Celine's eyes widened and she stared down at her lap, cheeks burning.

“Tell me, _Professor_ ,” Snape spat, “Have you even _tried_ dealing with the issue yourself, or have you only been complaining to anyone who would lend an ear to you? I highly suspect it’s the latter, with all of the ‘I think’s’ and ‘I felt’s’ you’ve been stuttering out since I arrived.”

“Severus!” Dumbledore cut through his venomous attack, though his tone hadn’t raised a single decibel. “ _That is quite enough._ ”

Celine could hear the blood rushing in her ears, along with a faint ringing. Her chest burned, but she couldn’t seem to get her lungs to work. She felt choked, trapped, helpless.

_“You stupid girl!” The man roared, reaching for her with giant hands. He grabbed the back of her head and forced her to stare down at the mess of glass shards on the floor, as well as the growing crimson pool of wine. “Look at what you’ve done!”_

“-eline? Celine, are you alright?”

Celine jerked her head up, but found she couldn’t quite see clearly. Everything was blurry, distorted, and too bright. She blinked and her vision cleared, salty tears tracking down her cheeks. Oh no, was she crying? Celine lurched to her feet, ignoring the sudden bout of vertigo she felt.

“I-” she choked, inhaling shakily. “Excuse me.”

She slapped a hand over her mouth and turned, making a haste exit from the room. _‘Stop crying, stop crying, stop crying!’_ She snapped to herself mentally, but to no avail. Her body just wouldn’t listen.

Once Celine was a safe distance away from Dumbledore’s office, she ducked into a secluded alcove and tried to remember how to breathe. Shame and humiliation coursed through her veins, unrelenting. After ten minutes of shuddering gasps, a downpour of tears, and wheezing breaths, Celine found that she was finally calm enough to pull out her wand.

“ _F-fluidi Evanescere*_ ,” she whispered, pointing the wand to her face. She felt a warm tingling sensation, and then her tears were gone. She didn’t want to alarm a student if she happened to pass someone in the halls with a tearful face, after all.

Celine stared down at her wand numbly, tracing the wood with shaking fingers.

_“-half-baked Arts Professor-”_

_“Any self-respecting adult would use their brains-”_

_“-have you only been complaining to anyone who would lend an ear to you?!”_

Celine squeezed her eyes shut with a pained expression. Snape’s words had been unbearably harsh, cruel even, but they held truth as well. All she’d been doing was complaining to Dumbledore, expecting him to provide her with a solution. She was an adult now, and needed to learn to deal with her own problems. 

She had been right all along, after all. Asking for help did no good.

Curling in on herself, the young woman quietly made her way back to her chambers.

Celine didn’t attend dinner that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Fluidi Evanescere = Vanish Fluid
> 
> So that was... wow. In all honesty, when I first started typing up this chapter, I hadn't intended for it to get so dramatic! Then again, I don't want Snape to warm up to Celine too quickly - it's only the fifth chapter, after all. ;)
> 
> I hope the brief flashback Celine experienced wasn't too triggering to anyone. If it was, please let me know and I will add a warning before it for future readers!
> 
> Spoiler, next chapter will be in Snape's POV!
> 
> Much love!

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my first ever HP fic! Aaaahh!  
> Snape is (by far) my favourite character in the whole franchise, and obviously I can't stand how things ended for him in canon. Therefore - I decided to take his fate into my own hands, muahaha!
> 
> So in THIS universe... Snape will find forgiveness, joy, and most importantly - love.
> 
> I do hope you'll enjoy.
> 
> (Beginning poem by Pablo Neruda.)


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